


Turn the Page

by Dgray3994



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean confesses to Sam, Dean has a secret, F/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Other, all errors are my own, not sure what to tag next, not sure where this is going, not wincest, sixteen years is a long time to keep a secret, this one hunt in St.Louis, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dgray3994/pseuds/Dgray3994
Summary: After a hunt in Central Massachusetts, the boys are gearing up to go home, but Dean's inner thoughts have him longing for something else. Usually it's a straight shot out of the state, but one glance at a sign has him turning off that road and Sam needs to know. The lyrics for Seger's "Turn the Page" triggers a need in Dean and it's been eight months since the last time he saw her, the problem is... how is Sam going to react to a secret he's held for the last sixteen years?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam winchester and original female characters
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43
Collections: Supernatural pairings/friendships





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 2/19 update. Had a book release and a family trip come up, still working on this next chapter. Not abandoned. Promise.

Turn the Page - An SPN Fic

Dean rounded 131 West, came to a stop at the intersection and stared out at the green sign. The light was red, he wasn’t going anywhere, but something about that sign had his attention. He and Sam had just wrapped up a case in Dudley and this was the fastest way back to route 20, his usual way out of this hell hole of a state. He hated Massachusetts, too many witches, too many memories but that sign.

A horn honked behind him, yanking Dean’s attention to the green light and not his inner turmoil, not that he had much… yeah, right, but at that moment there was something lingering in the back of his head. With a sigh, he stepped on the gas and made his way west, following the flow of traffic until he came to another light a few miles down the road.

Why did this look so familiar? 

Sam hadn’t said a word since they left the motel, since they packed up their shit and got the hell out of Dodge, which wasn’t unusual for them but now he was curious.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Which shook him for the second time as Dean got caught looking at the sign. “It’s a straight shot.”

Dean turned on his blinker, and turned right onto 148, but he immediately pulled into the parking lot just off the road and put the car in park. Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, placed the palm of his hand hard down on the top of the steering wheel and glanced over at Sam.

“Nothing,” he lied, “I’m just tired.”

“Well, let’s get a few hours out and then crash.” Sam was always so logical when Dean was in one of his moods, but today he wasn’t so sure and that nagging feeling in his gut just wouldn’t go away. “Where are you thinking of heading?”

“What?” Dean turned to look at him, to blast him for being so vague but the expression on Sam’s face was one of concern. “Like I said, just tired.”

“No,” Sam scoffed, but it was more of a stunted laugh as he shook his head, “no, I know you and that’s a  _ let’s take a ride _ face.”

“I just…” Dean faltered. He just what? He didn’t even know what he just anything. 

He was at a complete loss about what the hell was going on in his own head. With a groan of irritation, he reached over and flipped on the radio, popping the tape back into the deck. And he froze. The opening notes of a sax that he knew well blared over Baby’s speakers and he found he couldn’t breathe, not until Seger started singing and then it all flashed back. 

Dean pulled out of the parking lot with screeching tires, turning right onto 148, heading in the direction he had originally intended when he made that sudden stop and Sam’s hands went right to the dash, bracing himself for whatever the hell Dean was so uppity about.

“What the fuck, Dean!” Sam snapped and Dean stared down the road ahead of him, like it had done some sort of bad things to him, like he was out for revenge. “We’re headed in the wrong direction.”

“No, we’re still going west, just another route.” Dean calmly explained, though his whole body shook.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, or are you just going to drive us into a tree?”

Dean didn’t get why Sam was so pissy, and maybe that’s because he really didn’t ask, but Sam usually went along with anything Dean could think up, so he didn’t really get what had crawled up Sam’s ass and died, but he took a deep breath and looked over.

There wasn’t really anyway to explain it, so he turned the song up just a bit, “just listen.”

_ “ _ _ Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed, with the echoes from the amplifiers ringin' in your head, you smoke the day's last cigarette, rememberin' what she said…” _ Seger belted out the words as the melody played in the background but Sam wasn’t any less confused.

“Okay, what does  _ Turn the Page _ have to do with you racing out of there like a bat out of hell?” Sam sat back, watched the way Dean’s jaw clenched and relaxed before his shoulders dropped. 

He had learned over the years that you just had to ask the question and leave it be, Dean would answer in his own time but only if he wasn’t pressured, and that shoulder relaxing was a telltale sign that Dean was sorting it out in his head.

“It was 03’, you were at Stanford, Dad was out being dad and I was hunting up in St. Louis,” Dean tried to collect the memories, to get them all in order, but it had been almost sixteen years. Well, sixteen since that first moment, but he never forgot, he just tried not to remember. Now there seemed to be no choice. “I was on some stupid hunt, can’t even remember what the hell it was anymore but,” Dean glanced at Sam as he drove down the straight-away, not worried about oncoming traffic. “I met someone.”

“Dean, you always meet someone on a case, it’s part of your MO.” Sam laughed, but Dean looked away, his brows creased in worry, or confusion, Sam wasn’t sure but it made him focus on Dean just a little more. “Jesus, what she do to you?”

“Not sure, never really thought of it.” Dean shrugged, still staring out at the road, still trying to find the words. “She was there for a convention, two kids and an ex at home, but she seemed… I don’t know, lonely. We hit it off at a bar, one she sure as hell wasn’t comfortable at, and I didn’t pick her up, we just sat and talked.” Dean paused and glanced over at him, “we talked about you, about Dad, her life, mine.”

“You told her about hunting?” Sam stared at him, full-on bored into the side of his head with just his eyes and Dean let one shoulder rise and fall. “Did she think you were nuts? Did she get up and run?”

“No,” was all he whispered and Sam stopped. He was about to ask all sorts of questions but that one little word stopped everything.

“No?”

“Yeah, no, she didn’t run, or get up and make an excuse, she just asked questions.” Dean growled out the answer, like it was the most natural thing in the world for this chick, whoever she was, to comeback with questions about monsters. “And she knew things, Sammy, like she had been hunting herself.”

“Knew things?”

“Will you stop repeating? I’m trying to tell you something!” Dean snapped, and it was angry, loud, and full of confusion.

“Okay,” Sam surrendered, hands up, sitting back against the window so he could angle his body and watch Dean’s expressions. “So, she knew about monsters?”

“Yeah, like everything,” Dean stretched a bit, flexing his fingers as he bit down on the inside of his lip. “She was amazing.” Dean smiled at the thought, the two of them commandeering two bar stools at the far end, away from her business mates, heads together in a comparison of which monster was more dangerous and what legends were true or not. Dean had felt like a kid in a candy store, and she was the sugar, the crack, anything that he could get high off of. “Three nights,” he snickered and shook his head, “three nights of being myself with someone who wasn’t even in the business.”

“You liked her,” Sam smiled, giving his brother that teenaged grin, like they were going to play a game of either/or, which they hadn’t done in a long time.

“No, I…” Dean paused, “yeah, I guess.”

“Have you seen her since?” 

The question stumped Dean, like he was uncertain whether to answer or not, and he glanced over at his brother a few times, searching for judgement. “Almost every time we come out here.”

“Every time?”

“Except for a few years when she moved out of state with her kids,” Dean shrugged.

“Wait a minute, is that where you always disappeared to?” Sam narrowed his gaze, locking right on Dean, who couldn’t seem to find the words. “Every time we stopped in some random ass place around Western Mass, that’s where you took off to? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you… were you embarrassed?”

“No, I just…” Dean slapped the steering wheel, “I wanted something for myself, ya know.” Dean shook his head, how badly was this going to come out. “Listen, Dad had… Dad had Kate, though we really didn’t know it until Adam showed up, and you had Jessica, at least for a bit… I wanted… I wanted something that was all mine, and she had kids.”

“Did you sleep with her?” Sam grinned, because that was the only way he had ever seen Dean get so possessive.

“What? No!” That was a little too fast of a response for Sam, whose smile only got wider. “Not… not when we met.”

“You wanted to keep her safe,” Sam nodded, “I get that.”

“No, that wasn’t it at all,” Dean ran a hand down his face once more time, scratching at his jaw before he turned onto Southbridge Road. Once the car was straight on the backroad, Dean drew in a breath. “She was a light,” he whispered, “every single time we came around, it was like the world was brighter, like she broke through the darkness, and,” Dean paused, the smile forming on his lips told Sam everything. He wasn’t going to say a word, since this was the longest Dean had ever gone on about anything that he was feeling, there was no way Sam was going to interrupt because that would put a stop to it immediately. “She saw me, and she didn’t judge, Sammy, never once.”

“So, you did sleep with her?” Sam laughed, okay, maybe a little jab, but that smile turned into a full-on Cheshire grin and Sam watched him beam. “Jesus, Dean.”

“What?” Dean tried to get it to go away, but the happy thoughts of her just kept coming and he couldn’t keep it out of his voice. “What, Sam?”

Sam, who was now contemplating his next move, licked his lips and focused on the road for a few quiet minutes before turning towards Dean again. “Let me meet her.”

And there were two words that seemed to be on repeat in this conversation, “What? No!” Sam tilted his head in a  _ why not _ gesture as Dean sailed down the curves and sighed, “I’m trying to keep her safe, which is why I didn’t tell you.”

“At least give me a name,” Sam laughed, because his brother being this flustered was something he found absolutely funny as hell. 

Dean licked his lips, expanded that chest with as much bravery as he could and whispered, because he had sworn never to let her name leave his lips unless she was in some sort of trouble. “Kenzie.”

“Kenzie?” Sam repeated, like he was testing the word out, but Dean rolled his eyes, cause Sam just had to repeat everything. “Wait, Stevens?”

“What?” Dean nearly swerved the car off the road, coming to a screeching halt in a small dirt pull off and he turned quickly to Sam, hand on the back of the seat, clenching his fingers so he didn’t pull his brother’s hair like a child. “How did you…? What did you… ? Oh, shit.”

Sam grinned, “you wrote it down.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dean defended himself, wanting nothing more than to deny everything but that look in Sam’s eyes, that undeniable  _ yessir _ that he was about to spout out was there. “I didn’t.”

“You did.” Sam raised a brow, because Sam remembered everything, like forever. It was part of the way his brain worked, why research was so easy for him because he never forgot a case, or a piece of paper that was scribbled on beside some shady motel phone that didn’t work, in Dean’s handwriting with a phone number and the only name on it was  _ Kenzie Stevens _ . “Wichita.”

Dean sat back in the seat, eyes bugging out of his head as he clenched his fists on his lap and stared down into nothing, mentally punching himself for being so stupid. It was while she was in Vermont, when she moved out and away from her ex. She had switched up her phone number to get better service or just to cut ties, but she called him, told him, and made him write it down. And Sam saw it, knew the number, the asshole of a genius with a photographic memory. Sam knew about her and it’s been years!

“Just… stop,” Dean whispered, he scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands, “Sam, I can’t…”

“You want to see her, Dean, I know you do. It’s been… what… a year since we’ve been out this way? When did you see her last?” 

Dean closed his eyes and let his head drop back on the seat. This was a whole new side of Dean, one that Sam found amusing and uncomfortable. Dean pining after a girl that he’s known for sixteen years, that he tried to keep hidden from Sam. That he  _ did _ keep from him even if Sam did see her number. It was all too much. 

“Eight months ago, maybe,” Dean sighed, “she was headed out on a trip to Tennessee with her friend, and stopped in Kentucky.”

“The Florence case? Those creepers, what were they called?” Sam got excited. He always got excited when it came to recalling cases only because he wanted to prove just how accurate he could be.

“You’re such a freak,” Dean sighed, “and it was some ghost buried in a park terrorizing people.” Dean rolled his eyes, but he was grateful for the distraction out of his own head. However, that didn’t stop the memories from piling in. “She and Liz were stopping for the night and she text to tease how close they were. They didn’t realize we were in the same place.”

“I remember that, you said you were going to the bar and left me holding down the room.” Sam didn’t seem upset, he just seemed… oddly okay with it.

“Yeah, when I told her where we were she met up with me, with Liz.” Sam turned pretty quickly in his seat and stared at Dean. 

“You met her friend, but kept me from her?”

“Wasn’t my intention, Sam, but I did tell her if she needed to feel safe, to bring her along. She’s been…” Dean paused, “things were weird at home, and apparently the feeling just followed her out on the road.” Dean put the car in drive and took off from the spot, focusing himself on the directions more than the memories that were bombarding him. “Liz fits right in, you will too when you meet her.”

“So, I’m going to meet her now?” Sam smirked, but it slowly faded as realization came to him, “are you telling me she’s here?”

“Yeah, about twenty minutes up the road.” Dean seemed to slip into one of his moods where suddenly everything that came out of his mouth was an  _ I don’t care _ tone and Sam knew something was up.

“Spit it out.” 

Dean glanced at him, back at the road and did the thing he always did, he thought about it, actually thought pretty hard this time and it took a minute for Sam to get any kind of response. “It’s different... okay maybe not different, we share pretty much everything, how can we not, but she’s… I don’t know.”

“Special?” Sam watched Dean blush, look away and give just a small nod. “I’m not going to take her away from you, Dean, and just because you introduce us, that doesn’t make her, or your relationship, any less than it is.”

“Man, you don’t know,” Dean scoffed, “you’re her type.”

“What?” Sam genuinely laughed at that. “After sixteen years with you, I’m her type?”

“Tall, smart as hell, floppy hair, puppy-dog eyes,” Dean scowled, brow creased, “exactly her type.”

“Bullshit,” Sam shrugged. “I’m pretty sure without even meeting her that you’re full of bullshit on that one.”

“Yeah, how so?” Dean took his eyes from the road to lock glares with his brother.

“Dean, sixteen years.” And that was all Sam said. 

Of course, he still didn’t believe it was true, not one bit, but the fact that Sam didn’t seem interested, well, that was something that really calmed the flutter in his stomach. Dean was afraid, maybe not afraid, but he was definitely nervous about letting Sam meet her. He wanted something of his own, something that he could protect and call his, but she really did have a type. Even if they were the type that Dean wanted to strangle with his own hands until their eyes popped out of their heads then salt and burn them in a back field where no one would ever find them… her type were genuine assholes.

Dean turned onto route 67, which Sam got a kick out of and made a mental note to mention as he patted the dash of the Impala, which made Dean smile but he was still stuck, still thinking about her and for a moment, at the stop, closed his eyes. He had never even told Dad about her, or Bobby for that matter, not that the man didn’t already guess. 

He knew when Dean was distracted and back then, the random texts in the middle of the night, which went on for years because Dean was too distracted to turn off the volume. He even picked it up once when it went off, gave Dean the stink-eye but never asked a question about the gender neutral label of “K”. He did tell Dean once that it was fine to keep a secret as long as the secret didn’t get him killed. He shut off the ringer after that, but kept his cell in his pocket. 

There had never been a time where she actually needed him, like for something along his line of work. She was never haunted, or stalked, or threatened by the supernatural, though she did ask some pretty fucked up questions every now and again, but that made Dean feel safe at least, safe enough to not run after her, scoop her and her kids up, and take them away. 

Dean didn’t tell Sam about the little girl who was born less than a year later either. He just didn’t want to think of that, or how her hair had matched Sam’s when she was a baby, or the way her eyes stared into him like his dad’s used to. He didn’t want to touch on the fact that she had the same cheek bones as his mom, but he probably give that all away when he made it a habit to tell Kenzie how much she looked like her brothers. Dean didn’t want to think about it at all.

With a shaky breath, Dean made a left onto the main road in the small town, following Route 9 west yet again, and he started to shake, he felt his fingers fidget with the wheel, tapping out the tune against the leather wrap and he could almost hear Sam’s damn smirk beside him. He could always hear Sam but right now, he didn’t want to. He was too nervous, and not because his brother was beside him, but because it had been  _ eight _ months. It wasn’t the longest time they had gone between seeing each other, catching up, doing whatever they needed to feel whole because Dean always felt a little less when he wasn’t with her, but it was long enough It was hard to explain to anyone, but she made him feel human, not so much a hunter, or a Winchester, but human… normal.

Dean pulled onto the dead end road, made his way up the hill to the top of the cul-da-sac and pulled in behind a small car to his right. Jesus, he hoped she was there, showing up unannounced wasn’t a new thing, it just made him shake every time because what if she wasn’t home. He put the car in park, let the engine run for a moment and stared at the door, lips parted, breathing heavy, trying to catch his heart, and Sam was staring at him.

“You gonna go up and knock?” Sam finally voiced, and Dean barely heard it before he turned towards him, eyeing him like he had spoken some dead language.

“What?” Dean blinked a few times, clearing his head, and slowly he gave him a small shake, a  _ no _ gesture that Sam smirked at and turned back to the door. “Just give her a minute.”

The inside door opened, giving Sam a look at the smaller woman that stepped out, her back to them as she shooed a cat back into the house, before pushing open the outside glass door. Dean shifted up in his seat, hands flexing as he shut the car off and opened the door. God, seeing Dean like this was so much fun, and Sam watched everything, taking it in, memorizing it.

Dean stood outside the Impala, gently closing the door, as he waited and Sam watched his hands smooth over his jeans. Dean did some weird shit but the nervous look in his eyes, the way he licked his lips, and the smile… the smile was the best thing because it was real. He turned from his brother to the woman now standing at the top of the small four-step flight, hands in the black hoodie she wore, and there was something in her eyes, something Sam could see from there. They sparkled, they were wet and her lips were turned up in a smirk. Jesus, she was crying. 

Dean moved the moment she stepped down and Sam had never seen him do that before. It was like two steps and suddenly she was in his arms, face pressed against his neck, feet off the ground and his arms held her tightly. Sam slipped out of the car, still watching them with that cheesy smile as he closed the door and stepped forward. 

Dean towered over her by a foot at least, but his eyes shined as he looked down at her, once she was set on her feet and not going to crumble on weak knees. Her hair was brown, at least most of it, there were streaks of gray in it, which considering how old they were that didn’t surprise Sam, but it did tell a story. She wasn’t a hunter, she didn’t have to disguise herself and only dyed it if she wanted too, she was small, frame wise, there was no real hard muscle mass to her, but Sam could tell she ran, or moved a lot. She was solid, still a force to be reckoned with but she didn’t have to fight monsters. Her hands weren’t scared, there was no bruises to tell of a recent need to defend and as she stared up at Dean, there wasn’t any fear there.

Dean kept his eyes on her, listened to the soft words that escaped her lips and the palm of her hands roamed over his face, feeling the scruff there, then down over his neck, searching for things that might be different than the last time, but his never left her waist, where they were curled into her coat, holding her close.

It wasn’t until Sam was within a few feet that either took their attention away and focused on him. Dean did his thing, an unconscious movement that came from years of protecting and put himself just a little bit ahead of her, blocking Sam from getting within arms reach. Sam, in a means to make his brother relax, tucked his hands into the jacket he wore and instantly saw Dean bring his guard down.

“Ah, Sam, this is Kenzie,” Dean stepped to the side, clearing his eye line so Sam could see the woman that stood there in jeans, one of Dean’s old flannels (because Sam could recognize it anywhere) and a black hoodie, but her feet were bare, completely open to the elements and somehow that made her vulnerable. “Kenzie,” Dean smiled, took a deep breath, preparing to rip that bandage off completely, and he slowly let it out as he finished his sentence, “this is my brother… Sam.”

Her bright eyes went right to Dean’s and a smile rolled up on her lips as she turned and looked at the man before her. Sam couldn’t stop the grin, the love in her eyes for his brother was front and center and Sam knew why Dean was so nervous, so protective, but he didn’t reach out, only gave her a small nod.

Her lips turned up in closed smile. “Hey, Sam.”

  
  



	2. Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is captivated, not only by Kenzie, but the way his brother is around her. Finds himself taking in everything around them, and stumbles onto another one of Dean's secrets, several actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I wasn't going to do another chapter, but they were speaking to me, and you know how that goes. I can't promise you this story will continue because I honestly, I have no idea where it's going. As I said in the beginning, it was supposed to be a one-shot. Enjoy.

**Sound of Silence**

She hummed from the kitchen, it was light, just above the sounds of clanking ceramic mugs, and the gurgling of the coffee maker. It was a tune that Sam knew well, and he was pretty sure he was going to have it stuck in his head all day, but that wasn’t really what he was concentrating on. His eyes, at the moment, were focused right on Dean.

It was the way his older brother sat in the middle of the small couch, his arms over the backrest, fingers spread out as his left hand moved with the tune from the woman in the other room, that drew Sam’s eye. Dean’s head was turned enough so his eyes focused on the doorway that led from the living room to the kitchen like he was waiting on her, and there was a smile on his lips. It wasn’t the grand one that Sam had seen when Kenzie’s eyes were back on his green ones after greeting Sam in such a familiar way, but it was there, like this was some sort of routine. It was strangely domestic.

The house itself was small, a bathroom, kitchen, and a space that served as both the living room and dining room on the first floor, a stairway up to what he would only suspect was the bedrooms on the second, but it was comfortable. There were game consoles near the TV, notebooks, and two laptops on the desk, plus sketchbooks and a printer. This was definitely the home of teenagers.

Sam eyed the pictures on the walls, like he had always done, taking in everything and storing it for later. On a case, there was always the small details and usually those were the ones that mattered, but this wasn’t a case, this was Dean opening up a small part of his life that Sam never knew about. And while that should piss him off… it really should have… his only thoughts at the moment was of who this woman was.

The family photos caught his attention, and Sam slowly stood, bringing Dean’s eyes away from the doorway towards him, watching Sam’s every move as he stopped a few feet from the wall. The destinations behind the group were different, not a single one the same but there was a pattern in the arrangement of the four people in them. The oldest boy was always standing behind Kenzie, like a protective shadow, another boy seemed always at her left, but it was the girl that Sam seemed to zero in on.

As they grew, the pictures of the four of them told the story of their lives, one of some very adventurous kids, and a mother that would take them anywhere. It was also about how strong they were together with the way they got closer to the camera, not so much of the background visible with each new shot, but the way they all huddled together showed the solidarity, and that was when Sam saw it. He stared right into the knowing eyes of the girl, not so little by the end of it, almost the same height as her mother, and slowly Sam turned to Dean.

His brother had gone pale, lips open with an “oh, shit” expression right out in the open, and his eyes were comically wide, flickering from the photo to Sam. Just as he opened his mouth, Kenzie came in, stopped dead in the doorway and stared at him. She held two cups of coffee in one hand, and a single mug in the other, but there was terror on her face.

“Beautiful kids,” Sam suddenly grinned, giving her the most believable look of honesty in the world. Well, he was trying his damnedest anyway because there was definitely going to be a discussion about this later. He watched her relax a bit, take a small breath in and continue to the table.

“Thanks, they’re pretty awesome.” She set his cup down on the coffee table and moved to slide in next to Dean, her back to the arm rest. Sam shifted, stepped away from the wall, and took in what was going on across from him as he sat down. Dean had rolled his eyes, reached out and grabbed both cups as she scooted closer, tucking her feet under his thigh, and whether it was subconsciously or not, Dean moved until the space between them disappeared. “I had it under control, Winchester.”

“Yeah,” Dean smirked, waited for her to get into whatever comfortable position she was searching for, knees tucked up to her chest, body facing him, feet warming under the weight of his leg, and slowly handed her the mug. “You said that last time, and I had to wear running shorts that were too small for me while we washed my jeans. Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

“That was one time, and it was because that cat…” Dean raised a brow, instantly stopping her excuse, and Sam was completely mesmerized by the fact that they seemed to have forgotten he was in the room. The look they were giving each other was amazing, Sam wanted to study it. “Okay,” she surrendered, “you might be right.”

That was when Sam brought their attention to him, as he groaned and sat back in the seat. With both sets of eyes on him, he huffed. “You just gave him the worst ammo ever telling him that.”

“She does it,” Dean smirked, adjusting the mug in his hand, taking his eyes from Sam and the woman beside him, “a lot.”

“Because you’re rarely wrong on most things,” Kenzie admitted, shrugging casually.

“Except when it comes to things that you know more of,” Dean added, and Sam had faded into the background again.

“Like when?” Her laugh was contagious, and Sam could see why Dean was trying his best to be playful, he’d give anything to hear it.

“Hmm,” Dean, with a childlike expression was almost as good as listening to Kenzie’s light giggle, but when he narrowed his eyes at her, that one look turned almost more loving than Sam had ever seen. “April, two years ago.”

“That’s not even a thing,” she snipped and brought the mug up with both hands.

“It was,” Dean glanced over at Sam, who was sitting forward, elbows to knees, mug in hand, just watching. “Dude, that’s just creepy.”

Sam was shaken out of his daze, the sudden realization that he wasn’t just an observer had him clearing his throat. “So, what happened in April?”

“Um,” Dean shifted, and if it was possible, moved closer to her, letting her leg press against his side as he rested his arm along the back of the couch, fingers going automatically to her shoulder, looping her hair around to play with it. “You remember the Lafayette vampire thing up near Boulder?”

“The whole thorns from a rose bush can kill a vampire lore?” Sam smirked, but then sat up straight. “Wait,” his eyes moved towards Kenzie, “that was you?”

“Actually, no,” she shrugged and then raised a brow when she looked at Dean, who was glaring at her, “as I keep telling him, that was Liz. We had already been up there a few times, so we knew where to find Glavia’s grave. That’s the only reason either of you got pointed in the right direction.”

“But that info…” Dean started to protest.

“Could have been found by asking a local.” Kenzie laughed and Sam was drawn back into the playful smirks the two were once again giving each other. It was like watching a couple of love struck teenagers, and Sam was in total awe. “Seriously, Dean, you give me way too much credit.”

“Maybe,” he reached out, let his fingers move from the center of her forehead around to the back of her ear, pushing the hair out of her way, “but we would have been stumbling all night if it hadn’t been for you.”

“And Liz,” she added and watched Dean roll his eyes.

“And Liz,” he mumbled.

“Hey, Kenzie,” Sam interrupted, and smiled when both sets of eyes turned once more in his direction. He’s never felt scrutinized, but the way she looked him over, he was pretty sure that was what she was going for at that very moment. Sam shifted, uncomfortably, before he got up the courage to look directly at her. Years of practice had given her that mom stare and he took a breath before continuing. “Dean said you met back in 03’, but I was wondering, could you,” and his gaze flickered to Dean, who had that deer in the headlights look again, “could you tell me a little more?”

“He told you?” she smirked, pressing closer to Dean, looking at him lovingly, “what did he tell you, exactly?”

Sam chuckled because he knew Dean was leaving something out. “He said you were at a bar, looked a little uncomfortable, and so the two of you started talking.”

She sat back at that, confusion on her face for a moment before Dean slowly turned to face her. “Wow.”

“What?” He grouched, snippy but still on this side of light.

“You actually told him.” And that wasn’t what Sam expected at all. “No, ‘I hooked up with his chick’, or ‘you should have seen the rack on that one’?”

Dean grinned, “I only reserve those ones for you.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” she pffted and shifted her eye line to Sam. “He actually told you the truth, or part of it.” Dean moved his hands to his lap, folding his fingers together like he was about to get scolded, but her fingers gently across his cheek brought his eyes back to hers. “He rescued me from this drunk suit that wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Sam eyed his brother’s reaction to that, seeing the way he moved, as if the simple sound of her saying those words out loud made him self conscious. Dean wasn’t known for his chivalry, at least to most people other than Sam. “The guy was getting a little handsy, thought because it was a convention that free grabs were okay. But before he got too far, Dean strolled up out of the blue, slid into the seat beside me, glanced at him and then kissed my cheek.”

“Sounds like one of his pickup moves,” Sam teased, and watched Dean darken from blush.

“I thought so too, but he just smiled and said, ‘your mom says the kids are doing great,’ and Grabby Hands all but disappeared.” Dean leaned into the touch on his cheek, cleared his throat, and took all three mugs into the kitchen. Sam watched him go with a little worry, but Kenzie’s easy smile caught his attention bringing him back to her. “Look, Sam, I know this is probably a bit of a shock.”

“No,” he sighed, giving his head a bit of a shake, “no, not really.” Kenzie raised a brow in curiosity and gave Sam just a slight tilt of her head. “Look, Kens,” and that had her grinning a bit bigger until Sam realized what he had said. “I’m sorry, it slipped out.”

“He didn’t tell you that part, did he?” She giggled and Sam sat back confused. “Dean likes to call me Kens, like it’s some sort of secret nickname, but it’s funny that you said it because he’s the only one that’s ever stuck to it. I guess you really are brothers.”

“I guess so,” Sam nodded, the smirk never leaving his face, “so, Dean keeping you to himself isn’t really a big surprise I guess, I mean, he keeps a lot of things close to his heart, especially with the way we live.” Sam focused on the table for a moment, thinking of his next words and when he looked up at her, he could see the way she bit down on her lip, eyes focused a bit on the kitchen door, a slight amount of worry showing through. “I’m happy, Kenzie,” and that got her attention, bringing her gaze to settle on Sam’s, “I’m happy for my brother, and you.”

“Thank you,” her words were just whispers, the emotion behind it just a bit more than Sam expected, and with the slight curve of her lip, she unfolded herself from the couch and slowly stood. “Excuse me for just one second.”

Sam watched her quietly move out of the room. He didn’t mean to cause any issues, but he knew what she was doing. Dean was taking to long to make three simple coffees considering he knew just how everyone took them. After a minute of hushed mumbles and sighs, Sam’s usual curiosity got the best of him and he was on the move. With the cover of checking out her bookshelf, he stood just out of sight and listened.

“I thought I could, Kens, I…” Dean’s voice had a tremble in it, one he only got when things were overwhelming to him, something that Sam recognized from recent events. When Dean was hopeless, scared, pissed off, he got this slight variation in his voice, like he was about to give up, like the tears were on the verge of erupting. It always hurt to see him like that, because Dean was the strong one, he never showed this side to anyone except Sam, at least until now. “It’s too much.”

“Okay,” she whispered at him in a voice meant for small children who were terrified, but Sam had a feeling that she didn’t mean it in any condescending way, she was a mother after all. “Don’t freak out on me now, Winchester. We got this, right? You and me, been doing this for so long it should feel like second nature.” Sam could almost picture Dean standing there, arms stretched out, fists against the counter with his head down, but he could also see Kenzie scooting under them, making room in that space just so she could look up at him. “Remember when my dad came over to look at my car, unannounced and we were…” she paused, giggled and Sam could only imagine what was going on that would get that kind of girlish sound, “but we did that okay. You two started talking about Baby and everything was right with the world. Dad loves you. You think Sam’s going to love you any less for this?”

“I need to keep you safe,” he grumbled, because it wasn’t as deep as a growl, not nearly as protective enough for something that fierce because he knew he didn’t have to with Sam. “It’s just…”

“Odd,” her tone was light, almost relieved and Sam chanced a peek at them.

He was right, Dean was standing with his head down, as if the floor was the most fascinating thing, but Kenzie was there, her forehead touching his as her hands slid up his neck to scratch lightly on the short hairs of his crew cut. He could almost see Dean relaxing at the touch and turned away from their private moment.

“Sam’s…” Dean started, and that stopped him, mid turn, to listen. “Sam’s Sam, I didn’t think,” his broken sentences were actually pretty adorable when Sam thought about it.

His brother not being able to find the words when emotions were involved was one thing. He was never “emotionally constipated,” he talked when he wanted to, it just took the right moment for Dean to feel comfortable doing it. Sam had figured out a long time ago to ask the necessary questions and then let Dean be to process them and answer in his own time, but this… the fragments and the fact that  _ she _ totally understood it was just plain cute.

“I didn’t think Sam would have any problem with you, but Kens,” and there it was, that horrible three letter word, “what if this brings on a whole lot of bad stuff?”

“Like vampires?” Kenzie quipped back, “werewolves, Leviathan?” and her voice shivered at that one, “ghoul, goblins, ghost? Dean, we’ve been over this. That’s your world and I know that if it comes after me, two seconds on the phone with you and every hunter in the area will be on my doorstep before I can blink.” Sam admitted she probably wasn’t wrong. “And, you swore to me that if it ever happened that I needed you faster than your guardian angel could fly, you’d get on a plane.”

_ What the hell? _ Sam nearly choked, because only a force of nature would get Dean on a plane without a major freak out, or passing out from air sickness.

Dean snickered, at least that was the only way Sam could describe it, a quick snicker almost like a “yeah, right.”

“Cas,” he paused again, “Cas is well aware of the ICE situation protocols.”

Sam stood up straight.  _ Wait, Cas know about her? _

“Are you ever going to let me meet him? I mean, if my calculations are correct, it should be in another six years but you guys could be out of the business by then.” She sounded pouty, and Sam had to peek again. Dean had stood straight, arms came off the counter and around her waist to pull her close, but his forehead never left hers. His knees were bent just a little more than usual in order to come down to her height and he was staring her right in the eyes. “What?”

“You know, a decade and a half and that face still makes me want to do so many things to you.” Dean’s voice dropped an octave or two and Sam found himself running for the couch. He didn’t need to see this, didn’t need to watch his love-struck brother make the moves on his… was she even his girlfriend.  _ What the hell? Dean had a girlfriend? _

“Coffee, Dean. It’s not even noon,” was the snarky reply she gave him, but everything paused and Sam listened in on the tense silence before she spoke again. “You’re not staying, are you? It’s not going to be like the other times.”

Dean wasn’t quick to answer, in fact, the wait for his response was almost setting Sam on edge. “I don’t know,” was what came out of the kitchen, “with Sam, it’s just… guess we have to talk to him.” She didn’t say anything, at least not that he could hear, but he knew when things took a dive. “Hey, hey, Kens,” the shifting of clothes signaled a break, and Dean sighed, “we have all day.”

“I know,” was the only thing she answered back, but Sam knew those two words really meant “it’s not the same,” and Sam wasn’t about to let the heartbreak in her voice stay any longer.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stepped into the room, two mugs in hand, and she gave Sam a small smile and a wink when she handed one off to him. He had made it back to the couch, as if nothing had ever happened, and was pretending to play on his phone when they came in, casually stretched out with one hand over the backrest.

Dean followed, taking his seat once again, this time crowding against Kenzie when she found her spot against the rest. He didn’t put his arm around her this time, instead, letting it go right between her stomach and knees, before his fingers curled into her thigh. They looked lost, like all of the playful banter had disappeared in that one small conversation and Sam couldn’t help but think that it was his fault.

So, taking a breath, he cleared his throat and sat forward, placing the mug on the table. This caught the attention of the two across from him and once he had that, he laced his fingers together, and shrugged.

“I think we should stay the night.” That statement was aimed at Dean, making the older one’s eyes bug out of his head, even as he opened his mouth, but Sam just raised a hand. “You said it’s been eight months, and it’s not like we have anything pressing to get back to the bunker for. So, let’s just find a place and spend the night.”

“Can’t say I’m against it.” Dean shrugged, playing it off, but Sam could see right through that, and the smile on Kenzie’s face said it all. “So, what’s your plan?”

“I don’t know,” he gave a slight shift of his shoulders before picking the mug up. “Lunch? I have few more questions for Kenzie about this torrid love affair.”

“Torrid…” Dean started, but suddenly rolled his eyes, trying not to let the younger one get under his skin. “Yeah, right.”

“I kind of like it.” Kenzie grinned up at Dean, who turned his sights on her, and there was the smile that Sam wanted to see again. It was Dean lost in another person, one that understood him like he did, that cared for him in a different way but just as strong. “Dinner and movies? We got Disney Plus courtesy of Liz, and maybe the Travel Channel, which has the  _ Expedition Bigfoot  _ that you keep complaining about missing.”

Sam outright bellowed in laughter, because of all the things they’ve ever hunted, Bigfoot was not one of them and leave it to Dean to be an enthusiast. Dean blushed, right up to the tip of his ears when he realized that Sam now knew another of his deepest secrets, and he narrowed his eyes, reaching for the mug on the table.

“All right, all right, you got your laughs in, chuckles, just knock it off.”

And the morning slowly moved into the day.

Things seemed almost normal, like the three had always been together, that there was no distance between them. Sam asked some of the harder questions about their life together, even as strange as it was, and while Dean kept his answers short and sweet. Kenzie was more than happy to elaborate, after all this was Sam and he had the right to know.

The last sixteen years unfolded before him as Sam observed the way they reacted to each other, the care that Dean gave, the understanding that came from the woman, and he found out that they were together a lot more than Sam first realized. Those “drives” that Dean needed to take, the ones that had him gone for a few days were straight to her, or a meet up point. He had interacted with her kids. Been privy to some of their special childhood moments and while it burned at the back of his mind, Sam kept the needling questions of the pictures locked away.

He also saw the sadness in their eyes when they talked about the time apart. Not years like Dean would have liked him to think when she moved out of state, because his brother was smart and thrifty. Once settled, Dean found a way to see her, even if the trip north was a different route. He found out, by Kenzie’s insistence, that the trip to where she had spent three years wasn’t any longer than from where they sat right now, and she proved it to him by pulling up the maps on the screen. Each trip was nearly identical once you were past Vermont and up-state New York.

Lunch rolled into evening, bringing with it the end of a quick Avenger marathon with Infinity War, Captain Marvel, and Endgame, all three of which Dean had never seen, not by choice but lack of time. Things had been pretty busy for a long while and catching up on the Marvel Universe was a hard thing to do.

Pizza had been ordered, and wiped out of existence by the three of them, just as fast. A few beers had been drunk, but not enough to impair driving, and as Sam stood by the passenger side of the car, he was once again privy to some of Dean’s most private moments.

Kenzie stood on the second step up, giving Dean the opportunity to look her straight in the eyes, her hands were on his neck, thumb sweeping across his cheek and Dean was holding her waist, possessively, like telling the world that she was his. He kissed her softly, something that Sam almost missed if he had looked away at that second, but as it was, he was a bit of a voyeur and didn’t want to miss this side of Dean. When he leaned his forehead against hers, there was something gentle about it, and as his arms wrapped around her, taking her into a firm embrace, Sam saw the love there.

It took a while for him to let go, and Sam almost asked for the keys, to volunteer to leave them be for the night, but Dean stepped away, holding her hand until their fingers released and he walked towards the car. With a small wave, Dean gave a quick smile and slipped in. Kenzie smirked at Sam, wiggled her fingers in a good-bye gesture and turned, walking barefoot back to the front door. With a quick glance over her shoulder at Dean, she disappeared into the house.

Sam ducked in, closed the door, and waited. Dean bit down on his lip, started the car but never bothered to reach for the shift, not until the porch light flashed three times, and only then did he start backing out. Sam smirked, glanced up from his phone at his brother and raised a brow.

“Code for something?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off the winding drive that lead down to the main road. “Door’s locked, all clear.”

“Really?” he couldn’t hide the smirk, “like parents signaling that it’s time to come in from a date.”

“It’s not like that,” but Dean was just a little darker around his neck, and Sam only saw it under the light when he stopped to pull out. “Okay, maybe it’s like that.”

There was silence for a few minutes, at least until Dean started heading west down main street, towards Palmer’s route 32. “Where we going? I thought we were sticking around for the night.”

“The only motel we could get a room at is about fifteen minutes away, Sam,” Dean growled, and this time it sounded as it was meant to, “nothing’s close in this town.”

“You could have stayed.” Dean rolled his head, and his eyes, right in Sam’s direction.

“That’s not how this works.”

“She was alone.” Sam was sure at some point he’d understand.

“Her kids were coming home, and it’s one thing for me to be there, it’s totally another for you.” Dean raised a brow, asking for silent understanding.

And Sam did, but that only raised another question. “ Dean, her daughter looks…”

“Don’t.” That was a warning, and Sam ignored it.

“Wait, are you saying she’s…”

“Sam, I said don’t.”

“But, Dean, it’s a big…”

The car swerved on to the corner and Dean turned in his seat, eyes blazing. “I said don’t and I thought that we established that when I say that, I mean it. Don’t bring it up, don’t say it to her, don’t ask her about it.”

“You’re a…”

“God _ dammit _ , Sam!” Dean punched the dash, “stop!” Sam jumped at his outburst, making Dean immediately feel as big as an ant for startling his brother. He took a moment, gathered his thoughts and let out a slow breath. “Yes, okay, just yes, but no one…” Dean pressed the side of his fist against his forehead. “No one can know, cause, come on, how safe are we? It’s why I didn’t tell anyone about Kenzie, let alone her kids.” Dean sat back, took a shaky breath in and looked over at him, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry, you had every right to know, but I…” he huffed it out, “I didn’t know how to tell you, and still protect them.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. He gave it a little squeeze and waited. There was a moment of utter confusion in Dean’s eyes before he sniffled, looked away, and wiped his nose with the inside of his sleeve, another minute before Dean reached for the shift and finally pulled the car back into traffic. Sam waited for the car to reach a good cruising speed before he spoke again. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Dean snipped, “for laying a secret fling on you?”

“She’s not a fling and you know it,” Sam defended what they had, only because Dean couldn’t say it, or do it himself. “No, for sharing it with me, for trusting me with it.”

“Should have trusted you years ago.” In the dark cabin, there was nothing for Sam to see, no way to gauge Dean’s reactions to anything, but he knew that all he had to do was wait. “She likes you.”

“I told you…”

But Dean cut him off, “yeah, yeah, not your type, I got that. No, I mean, she actually likes you. I was afraid…”

“That we wouldn’t hit it off?” Sam chuckled, “Dean, I spent most of the time as just a body in the background. She had herself so wrapped around you, I barely existed.”

“No, sir.” Dean’s protest had Sam grinning.

“That’s because you were too much into being close to her to realize. You two didn’t even see half of the last movie, and, Dean, Endgame was awesome.” Sam was waiting for it, for some sort of protest, or agreement, but the silence was his brother realizing he had no idea what happened in the last hour and a half of the movie.

“Okay,” he finally spit out, “but don’t get a bit head about it.”

Sam sighed, like Dean finally admitting something was a relief, and they sat in comfortable silence until Dean pulled into the crappy, two-story, roadside motel, and parked it. Sam sat alone, going over everything that had happened, all that he had found out, and waited. Dean popped back in two minutes later with a key… an actual key, and smiled.

“Second floor, room 205,” he tossed it at Sam and moved the car over three spots to sit in front of the stairway. There were two other cars in the whole lot, but Dean insisted on making sure the car was locked down.

Two bed, a small bathroom with a shower that could accommodate Sam, and a working TV, Dean was all set, but as he sat on the bed, his thoughts were with the woman he left behind, and it took him a little just to get settled. Sam had brushed his teeth, managed to change into some comfortable sleep pants, and was snuggling up the crappy motel pillows like they were about to breathe life into him before he even noticed that Dean was still sitting at the edge of the bed.

“She’s fine, Dean.” He reassured, but Dean just lowered his head, stared down at his hands, like the world had just imploded and Sam knew that wasn’t it. “Call her.”

“No,” the word was just a whisper. “No, I’m just…” He ran a hand through his hair and stood, grabbing his shorts. “I’m just going to take a shower.”

“Hey, Dean,” Sam hiked himself up on his elbows to watch his brother’s movements, but as Dean stopped in the doorway, hands clenched in fists, not turning to look at him, he heard a faint “yeah, Sam,” that was almost inaudible. “It’s going to be okay.”

Dean gave a quick jerk of his head, stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving Sam in the silence of the room.


	3. Night Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a phone call, and a knock, and Dean's pretty sure he's in over his head with his brother in the bed right beside him, but after so long of keeping it to himself, he's just a little weirded out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here we go, another chapter. Again, there is no promises here that this will continue, or that it won't end abruptly. So, hope you enjoy. This one is a bit shorter than the others.

The opening guitar strums of Bob Seger’s  _ Night Moves _ broke the quietness of the night. It woke Dean slowly, letting him blink his green eyes open enough to reach across the bed to fumble for the phone. Sam snorted as if shocked, and then quickly sat up, looking around for whatever had drawn him out of his dream but when he spotted Dean slowly bringing the device closer, he was very wide awake. 

He had never heard that song used as ringtone before, at least not on any contacts that Sam knew about prior to tonight, but when Dean’s feet hit the floor, and the phone was to his ear, he didn’t have to guess who it was.

“Kens, it’s one o’clock,” it was a reflex to spell out the hour to whoever was calling and usually it was followed with ‘this better be good,’ but Dean just sighed. “I know, me either,” and Sam saw what he meant by those words. Even in the pale light that flowed in from the streetlights outside the windows, he looked like hell, and while Sam had been mostly in and out of sleep, he knew Dean had been restless. “What? Now?” His brother’s eyes landed right on him, showing the confusion and need in them. Sam just shrugged. “Yeah… yeah, come down… No, Sammy’s out of it, won’t hear a thing.” There was a pause, a snort from Dean, and then a chuckle. “I’m positive. He’s sleeping through it now, so you being here isn’t going to… Okay, we’re at…” Dean paused, reached over for the keychain and looked at it. “We’re at the Sunset Inn right after the pike entrance.”

Sam slowly sat up, placing his back against the headboard and waited as Dean scooted off the bed, still facing Sam and stood between the two doubles. He ran his hand over his face, then back through his hair as he gazed around the room awkwardly, before moving towards the door, scuffing along with socked feet. Sam heard the click of the locks in the silence of the room, then Dean dragging a chair against the old rug.

“No, no, I swear Sam will be fine,” Dean let out a long breath that ended in a giggle. “Okay, I’ll wake him up to let him know, but he’s just going to fall right back to sleep, Kens, I swear.” Sam reached over and clicked on the light, allowing the room to fall into a light orange glow, and Dean quickly sat up straight. “Okay, I’ll see you in fifteen. Yes, she’s the only one on this side, you can’t miss her. Come up the stairs to 205, doors will be unlocked. I know it goes against… okay, fine, just knock, I’ll let you in.” Sam laughed as he stood and reached for the deadbolt, clicking it back in place. “Right, see, all locked down. Okay, see you soon.”

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and exhaled, tapping it against his leg as he locked his eyes on Sam while he made his way over. He nearly bounced back to his feet with the way that he just let his weight fall on the bed, and in the dull lamplight, Sam could see the apology written right across his face.

“Look, Sam…” but the younger one just raised his hand.

“It’s okay, Dean,” and those words seem to be the running theme of the last twenty-four hours. “Do you want me to get another room?”

“What? No!” Dean’s protective side came out full force on that one, which brought a grin up on his lips. “I just…” Sam knew what he was going to say, wanted to tell him not to bother explaining but it was the middle of the night and this whole trip seemed to test Sam’s patience, especially when it came to letting Dean talk. “When I came up to see her, we’ve never not spent the night.”

“So, sex?”

“No, no,” but there was a smile on his lips as he looked down at his hands, “well, yeah, but that’s not the reason, and weirdly enough, it doesn’t usually happen. It’s odd, but we just sleep together.” Dean finally looked up. “We’ve never been about sex, Sam. There’s obviously been times though.”

“I got that from the pictures, Dean, but tell me about it. I mean, about this, like why she’s coming over.” Dean looked away, focusing on the open bathroom door, and he shrugged, so Sam continued. “Dude, I know you weren’t sleeping. A plague of locus could land on you on most nights and unless you’re four hours in, you wouldn’t budge, but I could hear you tossing and turning.”

“She’s too close.” Dean finally huffed out, then stood and began pacing the room. “I couldn’t relax, my mind always circled back to the fact that she’s right down the road, and why wasn’t I there, ya know.”

“Actually, I do.” Dean sent him a look, one brow up in disbelief. “Jess would always have late study dates, and when I got home from work…”

“You worked?” 

Sam stopped, gave him a face that screamed ‘give me a break’ and went on. “I’d try to go to bed, but without her there it was just pointless. Your body knows when something’s missing, Dean, and I’m also pretty certain you’ve programmed your brain to recognize when you were in the area too. What you did in Sturbridge was subconscious moves.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” Dean crossed his arms, switched his weight from one foot to the next, and checked his watch, before looking at the door. “So, anyway, I guess she couldn’t sleep either. The kids are set, she checked in with both and since there’s no school in the morning,” Dean gave a quick jerk of his shoulders. “Sam, seriously, I need her here.”

“And I’m not objecting,” Sam raised his hands in surrender, “just don’t make any lewd sex noises, and I’ll be able to fall back to sleep, no problem.”

Both turned as the light from a turning car hit the window. Dean glanced at Sam, who smirked, scooted down on the bed, and tugged the blankets over himself, his back to Dean. He took a few deep breaths, as if he were meditating and let his body relax to mimic sleep, while Dean switched off the lamp by the bed and turned on the small one by the door. 

“Sam,” Dean whispered, a hushed call in the near dark and Sam sighed.

“Shh, I’m sleeping.” Sam mumbled back, pretending to be falling into the slumber he was supposed to be so deep in, but he was wide enough awake to hear Dean chuckle.

“Right,” and Sam imagined him doing his patented big brother move by rolling his eyes. There were footsteps on the stairway, a pause, and then a gentle knock on the door. 

Sam listened closely as Dean breathed in deeply right before the deadbolt clicked and the door squeaked on their hinges. Sam could have sworn everything Dean had taken in had rushed right back out when there was a near silent “umph” and then a breathless “hi.” The stillness in the air told Sam one thing, they hadn’t moved from the spot, and Dean hadn’t bothered to close the door. If memory served right, the way they held each other the moment they came in contact for the first time that trip was now on repeat and he found himself squeezing his eyes tighter to stem off the urge to roll over and watch.

Shoes scuffled on the rug as Dean gave a soft giggle, then the tell tale click said the door was once again secure before there were two sets of feet moving across the floor. Sam slowed his breathing.

Dean sat down on the bed, looking up at her nervous face as Kenzie glanced over at the body behind him. He gently took her hands, brought them to his lips and kissed them gently, bringing her attention back to him.

“No freak outs, remember?” His hushed voice filled the room, even as he struggled to keep it down.

“Dean, I’m just not sure this…” she fidgeted in her spot, slipping off her shoes at the same time. 

“We talked about this, that it was cool,” Dean prayed she listened, that she didn’t turn tail and head right back out the door but when he reached for the zipper of her hoodie, she didn’t freeze or protest and slowly, he pulled it down until he could reach up and let it slip from her shoulders. Dean drew in a breath at the sight of the light tee-shirt she wore, and light meant almost see-through and very revealing as her nipples stood erect and right at eye-level. “Jesus, Kens, you really did just run out, didn’t you?”

“Couldn’t sleep, Dean, that meant I was pretty much up and out the door.” She huffed and tried to yank her hand away to pull the hoodie back on, but Dean wouldn’t let her go, instead he moved closer to the edge of the bed.

“You wearing those too?” He gestured to the flannel pants she had thrown on and watched her shoulders jerk in reply. Dean cocked his head, narrowed his eyes and sighed, “well, you’re not getting in my bed with those things.”

Sam held in the noise that threatened to come out with that statement and snorted, as if he was in the middle of a dream, but holy hell, his brother was pushing it.

Dean looked down, hid the smile, and reached for the end of her leg. They were soaked. “Was it raining?”

“I might have stepped in a puddle or two,” Kenzie admitted quietly, letting her now free hand thread through Dean’s hair. “It’s the only thing I brought.”

“It’s fine, you’ll just have to wear something of mine,” he shifted off the bed, leaving her to stand there as he grabbed his duffel from the corner, and yanked out a pair of black boxer briefs. Looking up at her from under thick lashes, Dean gave her a little waggle of his brows that only got a small snicker from the woman in front of him. “I promise, you’ll look sexy in them.”

“I thought we weren’t going for sexy tonight,” she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders as he reached for her waist, hooking his thumbs into the band.

“Probably true, but I didn’t say you couldn’t  _ look _ sexy, besides you wearing my clothes does stuff to me, you know that.” As soon as it was out of his mouth, Dean wanted to kick himself for it. Sam was in the damn bed behind him, probably about ready to spring up and rush out. He would have to keep that under control because there was no way he could have them both in separate rooms and still keep his sanity. “Listen, just trust me, you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Fine,” she gave an exaggerated breath between one moment and the next, waiting as he licked his lips, slowly pulling the fabric down over her hips. His eyes never left hers, never ventured down once he realized she wasn’t wearing anything under those pants either, but he did feel his whole body grow hot. “Sorry.”

“No,” he smirked, knowing just what she was apologizing for, “no, it’s absolutely fine.” He breathed in deeply, knowing full well that she had taken a shower only hours before because once out of the confines of her clothes, the smell of her skin hit him like a damn aphrodisiac. “Jesus.”

“Okay, I can just go in the…”

“Ut-uh,” he protested, let his fingers reach out for her thighs just to lock her in place as he released the fabric, letting it pool at her feet. “I just…” deep breath in, and slow release, “don’t move.” 

He reached for the shorts, leaned down towards her feet and placed a kiss on her thigh, something light enough for her to feel, and he grinned at the way her skin goose-pimpled under his lips.

“Dean,” her hand came down, grabbed ahold of as much of his hair as she could and gave him a little tug, a move that instantly had him breathless. 

Shit! He really needed to stop playing. Taking a moment to get his bearings, he nudged her calf with his fingers. 

“Right foot,” he commanded softly and waited for her to get her balance, which meant small, chilly hands on his bare shoulders again. Here she was half naked on the bottom and he was sitting there shirtless. He hated himself at that moment, so badly it hurt… hard. She slipped her foot in, got settled with it flat on the floor and waited. Dean bit his lip and closed his eyes. “Left foot.”

She repeated her movements, this time setting it down just a little further apart than before, giving him space to pull the cloth up, and he did so, agonizingly slow. When he was once again holding her by the waist, he chanced a glance up to her wide bright eyes, and took in the flush of her face. Her fingers kneaded the muscles of his shoulders as her gaze flicked from him to Sam and back. 

Dean raised a finger, scooted off the bed to pull the covers aside and gestured for her to climb in, something she did quickly before she yanked them from his hold and pulled them to her chest. He held back the laugh that threatened to escape, knowing her well enough that there had never been a time when she acted this shy. 

Quickly navigating the room, Dean hung her wet pants over the chair so that the bottom half dried and grabbed her hoodie from the floor, placing it on the bag so that it was in reach when she needed it in the morning, before he switched off the light on the table and headed back towards the bed.

With a deep breath and one more glance at Sam, knowing full well that his brother wasn’t sleeping, Dean shifted between the beds and slipped under the covers, pulling Kenzie tight against him. It was a relief to have her there, the smell of her skin taking over his every breath, the feel of her fingers on his chest as she drew circles on his sternum. 

It wasn’t odd for them to just lay there in the dark in silence, or to be at the other end of the spectrum and lay there chatting away for hours, but Dean wasn’t sure which one this was, and he didn’t know how to breath the weird tension that he could feel in the way her leg twitched when she hooked it over his waist. 

She was small enough that when her head rested on his arm, just far enough down that all he had to do was turn and she to lift her head in order to kiss, her waist was closer to his navel and should he want, she just had to slide across his stomach. The whole position screamed sex, made for sex, had to be sex, but it wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight anyway. 

“Talk to me,” his breathed out, and if she were any further away, she wouldn’t have heard it, but as it was, she was turning up towards him, placing her lips against the underside of his jaw.

“I missed you,” she confessed and Dean swallowed. He knew it, he knew that feeling so well that it nearly ripped his heart out every time he felt it.

“I missed you too,” those words sighed out, as he let his fingertips run along her arm. His right hand reached over, took her fingers from his chest and brought them to his lips. “It’s been too long.”

“You say that every time,” it was meant to be lighthearted, but he did, he used it as a crutch, so all he did was nod. “why do we keep doing this to ourselves?”

“To keep you safe,” Dean cleared his throat, turning to kiss her forehead, “to keep the kids safe.”

“Cop-out,” a flat, two words that summed it up perfectly.

“Sam knows,” and he hadn’t meant to tell her, but maybe it was the actual reason why they had stayed so far apart, why there was so much space between them, and Dean felt her pull away. Opening his eyes, he was able to see her in the dim light, looming over him, her full weight on her right arm as her hair cascaded around him, like a curtain shutting out the rest of the world. “He guessed. I’m sorry.”

Dean watched her tongue flick out and run along her bottom lip, and before he could blink, she had done the exact move he was trying to avoid. She slid across his stomach, the feel of the briefs on his skin was warm, and inviting, but he knew he couldn’t have it with his brother right beside him. He raised his hands, moving to place them on her hips, but she grabbed his wrists gently, shifted her body weight. 

She took a slow breath in, lowering herself to him as she brought both hands above his head, resting them there on the pillow. Dean had let himself get trapped, purposely surrendered control so that she wouldn’t lose it and he bit down hard, drawing his lip in as she slid back against him. 

“Bad idea,” he breathed when she was close enough that it wouldn’t take more than that for her to hear him.

“He knows?” She repeated, her tone full of shock, but there was something else there. Relief maybe, and Dean nodded, just one or two tilts of his head. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Dean turned towards Sam, getting her eyes to follow, “I wouldn’t let him.”

“Are you afraid of what he thinks?” she was right next to his ear, and if Dean was honest, he would have told her that he was terrified, but he just turned back to face her, eyes close enough to make out the lines in the dim light, to see the different shading in them, and his gaze flickered to her lips, wanting so much to feel them.

He took a breath and replied, “no.”

“Sixteen years, Winchester,” she smirked, “you’re not fooling me.” Kenzie placed a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “I know because I’m scared shitless.”

“He won’t hurt them,” Dean’s voice went low, a whisper, a caress.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Kenzie slid from his waist, made herself comfortable once again and Dean gazed down at her. “What if he doesn’t accept it?”

Dean pffted, because the one thing he knew about Sam was that there was no way his brother was going to let the idea of more family go, but how to tell her that. “He’ll love them, all of them, and you.”

“Yeah,” she teased, lifting her head again, “think he’s my type?”

Dean growled, loudly, and it echoed through the room as he rolled, pinning her beneath him, but she smiled widely, as he came down on his elbows, fingers playing with her hair. “He’ll have to go through me first.”

“Oh, spectator sports, I like it.” Kenzie shifted, adjusting her hips, helping him fit better as she ran her chilly feet down the back of his thighs until she could lock herself around him. Dean groaned. “Sorry, cold feet.”

Dean leaned down, placed his nose against the slant of her neck and breathed in deeply. “I hate you.”

“Mm-hmm,” she exhaled, closing her eyes as her body relaxed under his, “whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

Sam blinked at the quiet, took in the sounds of two people’s relaxed breathing and chanced turning over slowly. It had been about five minutes without a sound from either of them. The conversation had been a little tense, Sam had heard every word, but he knew Dean was right. Family was everything.

He could see them, make out the way they lay in bed, Kenzie tucked safely under Dean, as if he’d become a human shield, protecting her from everything. Her hands lay flat against his back, his face hidden in her neck, and his posture told Sam that he was as relaxed as he was going to get. Muscles twitched every now and again, as if testing his readiness for a fight, but Sam wouldn’t let anything break up this moment. 

With a deep breath, he let his body get comfortable, let the sleep come, and just as he was about to be pulled under, the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. He held in the smirk as he thought of the ring tone and the irony of the last sound he heard before falling under the spell of sleep.


	4. I want it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sam woke up, both of the people that had occupied the room with him were gone, but when Dean returned alone, well, he had just a few questions for his older brother. Dean knew that this whole thing was going to come spilling out now that Sam knew about Kenzie, but there were times over the last sixteen years that might have to be explained, and one part of it... well, he threatened Sam once over it, to never mention it again. Now he owed the kid the truth, he just hoped he could get through it and not sound that much like a dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are chattering away, these two boys. Guess we find out what comes next. Four chapters, so much to say. Again, I can't promise there will be one after this, but hey, you never know, and I can't be certain when I can post because this really was supposed to be a one shot deal. Anyway, thanks for reading, leave comments if you like, good or bad, I'm a big girl.  
> And yes, I realize somethings that Dean might say would be WAY out of canon character. That's what makes AUs fun.

**I want it all**

Sam turned over, blinked away the crust in his eyes, then rubbed them hard with the heel of his hand, trying to at least come to some sort of state of awareness, but when his vision finally focused, he realized he was alone. The bed he was staring at was empty and there wasn’t a sound in the room. Sitting up quickly, his head swam, and it took him a moment to get his bearings before he was out of bed and at the bathroom door. Sending out a quick prayer that he wasn’t interrupting anything, he swung it open.

Nothing.

For a moment, he panicked, before he headed straight for the door. Yanking down on the handle, he swung it wide and came face to face with Dean, who stood on the other side, hand raised with the key aimed for the lock, and a tray holding two coffees and a bag of what might have been donuts carefully balanced in the other.

“Jesus, who scared the piss out of you?” Dean smirked, pushing passed his younger brother to set the tray on the table. Sam closed his eyes, calmed his racing heart and slowly turned, shutting the door behind him before staring down Dean. The older one, who was now shedding the rain drenched coat, eyed him over, looking for outward signs of why the hell Sam was on edge. Not finding any, he yanked one of the large, Styrofoam cups from the tray and held it out. “She went home, got kids to check on, figured she’d bring them donuts.”

“Oh,” Sam’s brow dipped as he took the coffee, and a deep breath, before he sat down on the free chair. “I thought she’d stay longer.”

“Nah, kids first.” Dean stepped over to the empty chair, and leaned down, tugging at the boot strings. “Thanks.” It was low and muffled by the fact that he wasn’t even looking at Sam, but it was still heard. The lack of reply had Dean sitting up quickly in order to say it to his face. “For last night, thank you.”

“Like I was going to tell you no,” Sam smirked. “The look in your eyes when she called was not something I wanted to mess with. It was like you were on edge, about to go over it, and I for one didn’t want to see you bouncing around the room all night.”

“It wouldn’t have been that bad,” Dean cleared his throat, knowing that it was a lie and not a believable one at that even as he reached out for the bag and dumped the donuts on a napkin that Sam had placed down. Two powdered jelly, two frosted with sprinkles, because deep down, Dean was still that little kid. His eyes rested on Sam’s once more as he picked up the frosted donut. “Anyway, thanks.”

“Whatever,” Sam gave a nonchalant shrug, snagged one of the powdered and the two sat in comfortable silence as they downed the sugary breakfast. He watched over Dean’s face, the way his eyes lightened, then darkened, going through some sort of memory or emotions before he glanced up at Sam. “I heard you, every word.”

“Figured,” he mumbled, steadied himself for the onslaught of questions, and waited. “So?”

“So what?” Sam wasn’t purposely trying to be an ass, but what was he going to tell Dean? That the man hadn’t gotten it spot on when he told Kenzie that family was important?

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean plunked the half-eaten pastry down on the table and wiped his hands on his jeans before threading them back through his hair. “I all but admitted to you that I kept family from you and you’re sitting here as if it’s nothing.”

“It is nothing, Dean, because I know now, and what can I do about it anyway? Get pissed, yell and scream at you? What would be the point?” Sam inhaled, expanding his chest to calm his nerves, before he slowly relaxed. “You’re right, okay, I would love them, just like you, and I would protect them with my life, even if we never met, but I want to know more. Okay? More about you and the last sixteen years, about her, and them. And I want you to tell me before we leave here, so that I have a clue as to what I’m walking away from.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Dean admitted, staring down at the table as his fingernail caught on a sliver a wood. The ticking noise of him playing with it, of catching and releasing the spot had Sam reaching out. He slapped his hand down on Dean’s wrist, stilling the movement and slowly, Dean brought his gaze to his brother.

“Try,” was the only word that left Sam’s mouth.

He slipped out of Sam’s grasp, leaned down on his elbows, bypassing the table completely as he closed his eyes and let his head drop forward. “I met the boys in 04’ on my way through. Kens and their dad had already gotten divorced, but she never told me she was pregnant, so you can imagine my surprise.” Dean’s laugh was little more than a scoff as he tried to get his head in order. “God, Sam, it was like watching us growing up, but these two were a little closer in age, just over two years I think. James, he’s the older one, hates being called Jimmy, and I’m cool with that. He looks just like Kenzie, right down to the eyes, but Daniel, he was a fiery, kinda like you, they’re like polar opposites. He wanted to know everything, and he was three. Who was I? Where did mom know me from? Can he call me Uncle Dean?”

“Really, that fast?” But that actually didn’t surprise him, Dean was great with kids.

“I know,” Dean sat up, slanted himself back against the rest and started playing with the edge of his unfinished donut, taking it apart a little at a time. “They were… are… great kids, but Kens and I avoid the pregnancy thing all together, until she was born.”

“You were there?” The shock on Sam’s face was more than Dean could take, because it was funny, maybe a little too funny and cartoonish, but Dean shook his head.

“No,” but he was smiling, “I got the call when she went in, and man, was it early, maybe one a.m. The drive to get out here wasn’t as far as I thought, but I still didn’t make it. I waited, though, for her ex to take the boys home, for her to be alone with the baby before I stepped in. I brought flowers and balloons, a little bag of things I picked up, car stuff actually.”

“Let me guess, Hot Wheels and army men?”

Dean smirked, shaking his head, “nah, wasn’t army men, it was a G.I. Jane. Found one at a tag sale during a case, smudged it a few times and then had it blessed before I gave it to her.”

“A G.I. Jane?” Sam gave a little shake, but the grin on his face was just what he needed. Dean felt everything inside him relax. “So, you stuck around?”

“For a while, couple weeks to make sure her and Issy were okay,” Dean glanced up at Sam, and for a moment forgot. “Her name is Isabel, some family name, but she stopped wanting to be called it when she was four… so Issy came out.”

“At four?”

“Yeah, Isabel Rose. She tested the whole going by her middle name thing though, until she started calling her pet mice that, and it stopped.”

“You guys gave her mice? Such a good dad.” Sam’s brows went up and Dean’s lips turned down in a frown.

“I’m not, Sam,” he sighed, “I’m really not, because she has no clue, and the boys… they don’t know any better, but she looks like her mom, so there’s no…”

“Yeah, bullshit, Dean, she looks like you too.” Sam cut in and corrected him.

Dean played with the edge of his fingernail, picked at it a bit, and slowly his cheeks plumped back up, giving his brother a miniscule smirk. “Yeah, she does, a little. Looks like Mom too with those eyes.”

“Okay, so, you’ve been there since she was a baby, how the hell did you pull that off?”

“Like we talked about, I would skip out, tell you I was going to a bar and end up at her house. I had all that time before I came to get you at Stanford, Sam, enough to get in close. We weren’t together, there were guys in between, but most of them were douches. I was there whenever I could be.”

“And the boys, what did they think?”

“Are you kidding,” he scoffed like he was insulted, “I’m awesome.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” it was Sam being playful.

But Dean’s voice fell into that deep self-loathing tone that he seemed to always catch when things were going right, and he expected the rug to be pulled out from under him. “And I’m a hypocrite.”

“What?” Sam blinked at the whiplash of his brother’s emotions.

“Dad,” Dean sighed, “and Adam.”

“Okay, so, what about’em?”

“You don’t see it, man,” Dean focused on something else in the room, hoping to avoid Sam’s gaze but it didn’t work. “I let in on Dad, even though he was already dead, gave him hell when we found out about Adam. About how he would swing through on his birthday, take him to baseball games, all the stuff he didn’t do when we were growing up. I ranted and raved and didn’t realize that I was just like him.”

“Dean…” Sam forced a breath out through his nose, locking his jaw so he wouldn’t interrupt.

“Know how many of James’s soccer games I missed when I was up this way?” Dean scoffed, “not a damn one. I knew his schedule by heart, every year, right up until his very last one.” His fists clenched as he pressed the side of it against his forehead, willing the words to go on. “Know how many science fairs and conversation I had with Daniel about bullshit electronics stuff that I didn’t understand? Ain’t got enough fingers or toes to give you a number, and I couldn’t ask you to decipher what he was talking about because…” Dean let that hand run down his face before he scratched at the scruff just starting to get long enough to be itchy. “And Issy,” Dean let the smile come back to his face. “She loves her percussions, let me tell ya, but I bet you couldn’t even begin to guess how many concerts I skipped.” He took a breath and looked right at Sam, “none, not a single one. Not sure how, probably Cas cause even when we weren’t really talking, he would pop me over just to see her bang on that whatever the hell it was called last year, some giant xylophone thingy.”

“A marimba?”

Dean rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath, “of course, you would know what it’s called.”

“So, you stepped up and you think that makes you a hypocrite?” Sam was thoroughly confused, but jumped as Dean suddenly stood knocking the chair back against the wall, a motion the older brother instantly regretted. “Dean, I don’t think that makes you like Dad at all. You were there, for all of them, not just Is. Where was their dad? How did he fit in to all of these games and recitals?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Dean scowled, “just know that he wasn’t there.”

“Sixteen years, three kids, soccer games, and science fairs. You’re like a soccer mom.” Sam smirked, chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head. “I never doubted you.”

“What?” Dean twirled in his spot to scan over his brother, “did you hit your head before coffee?”

Sam slowly stood, a hand out, palm up, as if to calm him down, or keep him from running, Sam wasn’t sure. But the way Dean was pacing back and forth, he knew something was going to give. “Listen, you practically raised me, right? Made sure I did my homework, got me to school no matter where the hell we were enrolled that week. Fed me, damn near tucked me in every night so I got enough sleep.” Sam raised a brow and relaxed just a bit as Dean leaned on the dresser, arms lazily resting against the wood. “You’re a great parent, Dean, biologically or not, and these kids are better off with you in their lives.”

There was a pause, a moment of absolute silence as if Dean was contemplating what to say next, and when it came out, it was so soft that Sam barely heard him. “I watched him graduate.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

“James,” he shrugged, gaze cast to the floor, “and I helped teach him to drive.”

“Yeah?” Sam beamed, “like you taught me, or actual rules of the road?”

“You kidding? Kens would have my balls if I taught him like I did you.”

Sam shifted to sit on the end of Dean’s bed, fingers folded together as his lower arms rested on his legs. “You let him drive the Impala, didn’t you?”

Dean stuttered for a moment, unsure on whether he wanted to be that honest, and then slowly nodded, “Once or twice, up at the reservoir.”

“Really, he handled it?”

“Her, he handled her pretty damn good.” Dean took a deep breath in and crossed his arms over his chest, before letting it out slowly. After a moment of scattered thoughts, he let his gaze drop to Sam. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Dude, it’s been sixteen years, I think you got it down pretty damn good.” But Sam could tell that wasn’t the issue, and the smile faded from his face. In fact, the only thing registered was shock. “You wanna quit.” Dean rolled his eyes, looking away. “You want to actually give up hunting, settle down with three kids and a white-picket fence?”

If Dean were a fish, Sam would have sworn he was out of water and fighting for his life, because that was the exact thing he was doing with his lips, until he gave up. Sam could see the uncertainty in his eyes, even how he chewed on the inside of his lip, but Dean wasn’t admitting to anything, at least not outwardly. 

“Can you promise me something?” Sam broke the silence in the room, but he could hear the way Dean swallowed before he continued, “can you promise that you’ll talk to me before you decide that this is where you want to be? Like seriously sit down and hash it out?”

“Sam,” Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead as he refused to make eye contact.

“I’m serious, Dean.”

“Just tell me why.”

“What if I want to know them too?” He said it with so much emotion, so much absolution that Dean didn’t have a choice but to look at his brother. “It’s us against the world, right? You and me fighting the good fight, together?” Sam shrugged, “what if I do this together too? Issy might be yours but those boys are too, and that makes them my family, Dean, like you said to Kenzie. And I want that, I want a niece that’s a rock star, and a nephew that confuses the hell out of you, and one that plays soccer and can handle the Impala.” He paused for a second, suddenly curious because the age difference would made James old enough to be on his own and suddenly Sam was terrified. “Where’s James, Dean? I mean, where is he now?”

“College,” Dean smiled, pride filling his voice, “got accepted to a tech school out near Boston, works on designing the ‘cars of the future,’ new wave engines and stuff,” Dean sighed, “still not letting him touch Baby though. She’s going to stay a classic, but he’s good with his hands.”

“I wouldn’t think so, but that’s…” Sam stopped, thinking about those pictures in the room, “that’s amazing. And what about Kenzie, what does she do?”

“Ah, that’s a little harder to explain,” Dean scratched at the back of his neck for a minute, and Sam could see the wheels turning. “Um, so, there was a reason her and Liz knew about the Colorado thing.”

“Ah-huh, so…”

“And the time we met up in Kentucky.”

“Dean, just tell me.”

Dean bit his lip, reached in his back pocket and yanked out his phone, scrolling through the apps as he sat down on the bed next to Sam. “It’s a little weird.”

Sam snatched the phone from Dean and looked at the page he was on. “She’s travels.”

“She doesn’t just travel,” Dean admitted, waiting for Sam to catch on as he continued to scroll.

“She investigates urban legends?” Sam turned completely on the bed, staring Dean right in the eyes. “You said she didn’t hunt!”

“She’s not hunting, she’s ‘investigating’.” He actually used air quotes as he explained.

“It’s the same thing, Dean!”

“No,” the older one smile, “not really. Her and I have an understanding.”

“What, text when she’s close?”

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s annoyance, “No,” he took the phone back and sighed, “she calls me first, tells me what their looking into and I tell her if it’s a good idea or not.”

“You tell her…” he mumbled to himself before it hit him, “holy shit, that’s why you’re always asking me about these stupid things in different states. The ones I end up spending the whole night looking into just for you to say it turned out to be nothing, those were for her?”

“See, you knew her before you knew her,” Dean grinned as he quickly got off the bed. “And also, not hunting.”

“Jesus, Dean!” Sam rubbed his hand down his face, around his neck and then through his hair. It was way too early for this. “Okay,” he closed his eyes, taking in all of the information in front of him. “So, Kenzie travels looking for things that are just bullshit, and Liz goes with her, right? She doesn’t do this alone.”

“She’s too smart for that, Sam,” Dean huffed and it’s as if he were offended for her. “She was doing it in St. Louis.”

“I thought you both said she was there for a convention.” Sam watched as Dean moved towards the seat, grabbed his boots and started to slip them on again.

He looked up, gave him a “duh” face. “Yuh,” he clipped out, “but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t already into this stuff.” He grabbed the second one and sighed, eyeing the way that Sam hadn’t moved at all. “Get dressed, I’m starving and there’s a place down the road that I want to try.”

“Food?”

“A man can’t live on coffee and donuts alone, Sammy,” Dean stood and winked, “besides, therapy makes me hungry.”

Sam grabbed his clothes and headed into the bathroom, leaving the door open just a bit so that he could continue talking. He had a feeling if they stopped, Dean would close down shop and lock it up tight. “So, what was she looking for in St. Louis?”

“I guess checking out Lemp Mansion,” Dean informed him as he moved around the room. Sam could hear him packing up small things, but then there was one audible draw of breath, and Sam closed his eyes. There was only one thing that Kenzie had left behind from her night there and Sam tried his best not to think about it, especially with the way Dean was humming. “She wanted to go out to a place called ‘Zombie Road’ and I volunteered to take her, I think that was our second night at the bar, but we got to talking and time just got away. We did make it to Kirksville. Her boss was pretty pissed that she missed the last day, but we were back on those bar stools that night, like nothing ever happened.”

Sam finished brushing his teeth, but didn’t bother to pack his toiletries, he had a feeling they would be sticking around for another night. Stepping out of the bathroom, he found Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, the coat he was wearing before was swapped out for a slightly heavier flannel, holding his phone in his hand.

“You okay?” It wasn’t that he wanted to be overbearing, but if he wasn’t sure how to handle Dean’s emotions, he was pretty positive Dean’s thoughts were a complete whirlwind. Dean gave only a slight nod, stuck the phone in his pocket and stood, patting Sam on the shoulder as he walked by.

“Let’s go, I’m starving.”

The trip to Crystal Springs Dairy Bar took the boys back into the town that Kenzie lived in. It was a small, cash only, diner that severed breakfast and lunch, but most importantly, they had coffee, and that was the first thing out of Dean’s mouth when he sat down at one of the far tables tucked in the back. Having parked the Impala away from the main traffic, Dean had a perfect view of his baby as the two sat in silence after placing an order for a hearty breakfast.

“Hey, Dean, can I ask you something without getting punched?” Sam broke the silence, getting Dean’s eyes to slowly move from the view of the waitress in tight jeans to his. He looked at his younger brother slightly confused as Sam fidgeted with the coffee mug in front of him, and raised a brow signally he was all ears. “No,” Sam refused, “you gotta promise not to swing at me.”

“All right,” Dean was just a little apprehensive about whatever Sam was about to come out with, but he was more than curious as to know what he was thinking, “go ahead, I promise not to swing.”

“I get that the two of you have a pretty… weird, relationship and you said she’s had other… partners.” God, he sounded like an idiot dancing around the subject, and screw this, he was just coming out with it. “How exactly did the two of you work when you were in Michigan, with… ah, with Lisa?”

Dean knew it was coming the moment Sam asked him to promise. He threatened to break his nose if he ever mentioned her again, but while it tugged at Dean’s heart at the very mention of her, he knew Sam had a good reason to need clarification. Lisa and Ben had been, well, he thought they had been it. Kenzie had someone at that time, even though he knew she’d be with Dean the instant he needed her, not that she was mean-hearted, but because he knew how she felt. He couldn’t bring that kind of broken shell of a man into her life, not with losing Sam the way he did, and she was just getting shit together as it was.

“Yeah, that was…” Dean paused, clenched his fingers tightly around the cup as Sam sat as far back as he could, and Dean saw the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed hard. Sam needed to chill, he wasn’t going to hurt his brother, not because of something that was his doing, not matter how much it hurt. “Sam, I’m not going to hit you, relax.” It had to be said, because otherwise Sam would be on edge until Dean either told him it was fine or outright decked him. “I get it, you need to know and … ah, I probably should explain it anyway.”

“So, you’re not mad?” There was disbelief in his voice, and Dean understood why, but he shook his head.

“No, I owe you at least this much.” He saw Sam slump down in the seat a little and reach for his coffee just as the waitress brought their food. She gave Dean a wink, something he just smiled and shook off, before she turned and walked away. Sam took a breath, grabbed a fork and dove in. “That was, ah, 2011 right?”

“Somewhere around there.” Sam tried to concentrate on the omelet in front of him, letting Dean take his time with whatever he needed to get it straight.

“Oh, right, um, Kenzie and the kids were in Vermont, she was dating some ham that she knew from school who lived in the area.” Dean shrugged, pushing his fork down into the stake of pancakes to cut through them. “He wasn’t a bad guy, I guess, but we didn’t want to push it with me just showing up, so I called, a lot, which probably still didn’t help the situation. The kids were starting a new school, she tried pee-wee with them a little, James got it… Daniel tried to off his coach with a softball to the forehead.”

“Wow, really?”

Dean grinned like the he was the happiest son of a bitch on the planet because of it, and proud, “yep, caught him talking about his mom.”

“Oh, well, good for him then.”

“I thought so, but Kens wasn’t that happy. Daniel was having a rough time, not because of the move but just in general. He’s like you, can’t keep it straight unless there’s something specific to do, so soft ball wasn’t it, didn’t keep his attention.” Dean stuffed a forkful of the fluffy pancakes in his mouth, chewed for a moment as he thought of what to say next and shrugged. “We made it work, I told Lisa about her, she flipped, of course. I didn’t go to see her, at least not right away.”

“But you did at some point,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah, once or twice that year. Issy ended up in the hospital, couldn’t shake a fever and Kens was just freaking out. The guy had hauled ass after the whole Daniel thing and she was doing her ‘Supermom’ impression like usual, so unless her mom came up, there wasn’t anyone else to call.” Dean took a sip of the coffee and smiled up at the waitress as she sashayed her way over to refill it before he could put it down. He nodded his thanks at her, Sam did the same, but Dean’s concentration was now on other things. “So, anyway, I went up. They figured out that Issy was having a reaction to the asbestos in the walls of the house, some old Victorian. Was giving her bad headaches and fevers, especially after a bath, so black mold too.”

“What did you do?” The concern in his voice was real and Dean gave him a lop-sided grin.

“I moved them out that weekend, about ten minutes down the road. Got in touch with a guy I knew up there, pulled a few strings, found her a better place.” Dean shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big thing, but Sam knew what kind of toll it must have put on his relationship with Lisa. “It wasn’t that bad, Sam. I called Lisa and Ben every night, told them every move I was making, and that Kenzie was family. I had to do what needed to be done.”

“How was Issy?”

“Two weeks later, she was right as rain.” Dean seemed cheerful but there was just something at the edge of it, hiding under the cheerful tone.

“What was it, Dean?”

He cleared his throat, dug into the pancakes again, stuffing his mouth full and he let that memory come back to haunt him. The one and only time he ever feared for someone, other than Sam, to the point that he would have died to keep her safe.

“Vengeful spirit,” he finally admitted, swallowing down the pancake. “Some guy, buried in the basement, the ventilation for whatever radon they thought was in the area concealed any decay, not that this guy let any off, he’d been dead since the place was built, but Issy…” Dean sighed, placed his fork down on the table and let the side of his hand rest against his lips, for a moment. “Sam, Issy’s a little like you were… sensitive to that kind of stuff.”

“She’s not like me, Dean, not really.” But he got his brother’s meaning, “maybe she’s an empath.”

“Maybe,” he stared out the window for a bit, before relaxing enough to pick up the fork. “Anyway, salt and burn and back to Cicero. Kens and the kids were locked down, the new place seemed to work out great and Issy was fine.”

“What about after?”

Dean glanced up from the syrup that he poured over the cooling food, “what do you mean?”

“When I came back, what happened between you and Kenzie?”

“Nothing, she stayed up there for a few more years. After a bit she moved back to Massachusetts, set up house here and the rest, you know, is history.” Dean smirked but it was fake, and Sam could see it. Dean dropped the fork, locking gazes with his brother, “what do you want me to say, Sam? It was confusing as hell? Cause it was. And I wanted to be there for Kens, but… I promised you that I’d find Lisa and settle down.”

“That’s because I had no idea about Kenzie, Dean, if I did,” Sam gave him just that little look of “you know,” and left it at that.

“We made it work,” Dean was determined to finish his meal, irritating little brother annoying him or not, but he slowly glanced up again. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. When I decided to go hunting with you, figure out the Campbells, it wasn’t your fault that I left her like I did. It was mine, and I saw an out, so I took it. I said that was who I was, you know, a hunter, but on the road I could see Kenzie more, I could check on the kids. I could keep you close. I couldn’t do that with her.”

“So, you let go of a normal life to _not_ be with either of the women you loved, just so you could keep secretly seeing one of them, while keeping me close?” The small smirk formed on Sam’s face. “That is one hell of a way to torture yourself, man.”

Dean chuckled, finishing off the bacon in his hand, and he gave Sam a grin. “Hey, you know me, all self-deprecation, all the time.”

“You’re just a kinky bastard.” Sam scoffed and that brought a full smile to Dean’s face.

“Don’t tell Kens, she thinks she’s the kinky one in this relationship,” Dean’s comeback was timed just right, and Sam was suddenly choking on his coffee.

“Really didn’t need to know that, Dean.” Sam barked out as he tried to clear his throat.

Dean dug his phone out of his pocket, smiled at the screen and then back up at his brother. “Well, knowing is half the battle, Sammy.”

Sam was not impressed, at all, but he can see the strange look in Dean’s eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Sure,” Dean nodded, still looking a bit out of sorts, “ever wanted to see the geographical center of Massachusetts?” Sam’s brow furrowed as Dean raised his hand. “Check, please.”


	5. Livin' on the edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something comes up at breakfast, something other than Dean's secret life, but that doesn't mean that it isn't the topic of Sam's continued questioning. Dean's faced with one of his worst fears, a case that Kenzie and Liz are handed, and in order to keep the girls safe, the boys agree to "take care of business."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ideas are flowing, just had a mild bit of absolute insanity this weekend. Hopefully I can keep this flowing, looks like it's turning out to be pretty fun.

**Livin’ on the edge**

Sam was quiet for the whole thirty-five minutes it took to drive up Route 32 North. He was taking in everything that Dean had told him that morning, and it was a lot. He expected to hear something about Lisa and Ben after all this time, especially when the matter spanned that many years, but to find out that he used Sam’s appearance as an out, struck the younger one as not something Dean would do.

His worry now was that Dean was thinking of doing it again. Sam knew the truth about Lisa, about how easy it was to put that life behind him to get out on the road with him. How could he live knowing that Dean might be able to that to Kenzie and the kids? Sam sighed, rubbed his fingers across his head painfully hard, trying to get the pain that throbbed in his temple to disappear, but it wasn’t working. This wasn’t just a headache; this was just Sam overthinking.

“I can see the smoke, Sammy,” Dean grumbled from behind the wheel, “whatever you got brewing, you might as well spit it out. We’ve been doing the touchy-feely crap for the last two days, gotta keep it going.”

“It’s not crap, Dean,” Sam sighed, deep and loudly, “it’s your life, your choices.” Sam shifted in the seat, giving his legs space to stretch out as he turned to face him. “Did you love Lisa?”

“Okay,” Dean nodded, his voice suddenly going low as he pulled up to a stop sign and glanced at his brother, brows raised, “now I _am_ going to punch you in the face.”

Sam raised his hands, shrunk back against the door, and shook his head. “You were talking about quitting, about getting out, but can you? I mean, think about it, Dean, can you really stop going out on the road, park the car and put away the gun?”

“I wouldn’t have to,” his answer was quick, as if he hadn’t even thought it over, didn’t even let Sam finish his sentence and that got the younger one worried. Dean cleared his throat, picked up the newer gas station coffee from the console and took a drink before he glanced at Sam and pulled out into the intersection. “Ah,” he started, as if this was a bigger reveal than just about anything Sam had heard in the last twenty-four hours, bigger than Dean’s surprise family. “Kenzie and I already talked about it.”

“What?” He now had Sam’s full attention. “Why? When?”

“You’re missing who and how,” Dean smiled sarcastically, before he took another sip and placed the coffee down. “Eight months ago, remember, I told you we met up in Kentucky?”

“You said Liz was there.”

Dean gave a wink and that smile seemed to light up his face, “didn’t say she was with us the whole time.”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Hey, just trying to explain the situation,” the nonchalant rise and fall of his shoulders gave Sam the impression that it wasn’t what he thought. “We walked Liz back to the hotel, and then took our time making our way through the park.”

“The one with the ghost issue?” Sam raised a brow, which only had Dean smirking in return.

“Yeah, probably not the best idea, but the two of us were safe,” he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, glanced down at the phone reception while on a straight away and sighed. “Great, no signal.”

“Shouldn’t be texting her while you’re driving anyway,” he reprimanded like a mom would, but left out “keep your eyes on the road.” Dean laughed.

“Wasn’t going to text her, just like to know we’re headed the right way,” Dean set the phone down and glanced around at the wooded area that surrounded him. “So, anyway, we talked about me coming up more, about the kids asking, and it just kind of came out. A ‘what would you do if’ kinda thing.”

“So, you’re not talking quitting, you’re saying moving our base to here?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Dean glanced over at him, trying to get a feel for Sam’s emotions just by the look on his face. “You don’t like it, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, Dean,” Sam eyed him over again, “it’s that I think there’s no happy medium. Our lives are not exactly fifty-fifty, we’re either all in or completely out. Think about it, when have we been able to get away with a real life and still hunt?”

Dean paused, kept his eyes on the road, as all of the scenarios ran through his brain. He was right, with Jess, he was completely out, until Dean came back. With Lisa, Dean was out, until Sam came back. Eileen, Amelia. No matter who it was, when they were together life tended to lead towards hunting, and that brought the women in their lives down into the thick of it.

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“I don’t know if you should try,” Sam whispered, but his voice was full of honesty. He was afraid for Dean, for the life he created with this person for the last decade and a half, and he didn’t know what to do to offer any suggestions. “So, she said you could still hunt, still go out on the road, but what about when you come home?”

“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean growled, rolling his head toward his brother in a way that told him that Dean certainly didn’t have all the answers right then and there. “It was a thought, okay, a long, drawn out, happy thought. And as much as it sucks and the details aren’t clear,” Dean paused in his rant, “I want it, okay, I want it with her, and with you by my side, like always.”

“Okay,” he gave him a slight nod, before facing front. Dean being open about everything going on was a little too much to handle, so when the car finally came to a stop again, turning right onto 122A, Sam changed another question. “What are we doing?”

“Not sure,” Dean gave a quick shrug. “Her text said to meet her at Schultz Farm in Rutland.”

“So why say the geographical center of the state?” Sam was confused, apparently the amount of coffee and food he had so far was not enough to wake up his brain.

“Really?” Dean scoffed, “something you don’t know that I do?” His laugh echoed in the car, “dude, we are literally at the center of the state. Come on, they actually have a tree and a sign, like Lebanon. You can’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

“I…” Sam stuttered before he just rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw, if he admitted it, Dean would never let him live it down, so he shook his head, “it’s been a long night listening to you and her almost have sex in the bed next to me, Dean, I’m tired.”

“We did not ‘almost have sex,’ you big pussy.” Dean snipped but Sam could see his neck starting to turn red as the thoughts ran though his mind.

“And you weren’t sniffing the stuff she was wearing last night either, you major perv.” Sam relaxed, the banter between them was starting to feel normal again, but when Dean just grinned out the window, Sam knew everything would be fine. Until they turned into the dirt parking lot of a small house and barn combo. Schultz Farm and Barnside Café was apparently a pretty busy place. “How will you know she’s here?”

The phone on the seat beside him buzzed just as he put the car in park, giving Dean a free hand to pick it up, flip it around, and show Sam the “sexy car” text that flashed on the screen. Sam couldn’t get over the static buzz in the air as he stepped out, closing the door behind him. Maybe it was just knowing where they were, who they were meeting up with, but when he turned to Dean, saw the concerned look on his brother’s face, he knew he wasn’t the only one getting the creeps about this place.

Both of them made their way inside the café and Sam was right, it was hopping, but it didn’t take Dean long to scope the crowd and find Kenzie sitting at a back booth, four cups of coffee on the table, one in her hand, and one in the grip of another woman. They made their way forward, stopped at the edge of the table and without preamble, Dean slid in beside the dark-haired woman, giving her a smile and a wink before they both looked up at Sam, towering over them.

“Sam, this is my friend, Liz,” Kenzie spoke up, gesturing to the woman across from her. Liz was taking him all in, and blushed, which Sam immediately realized he was mirroring before he waved and slid in beside her. “Liz is my travel partner and friend,” but Kenzie paused, her gaze shifting to look at Dean. “You did tell him what I did for ‘work,’ right?”

“Well, duh,” Dean mumbled sarcastically but kissed her softly on the head. “I told him, and he’s being a bitch.”

Sam replied in kind, more like a habit as he lifted his mug to his lips, “jerk.”

Kenzie’s laugh brought Sam’s eyes right to her, and that small smirk on her face as she connected with him. It was different then the house, the way she looked him over. It was more relaxed, a bit on the side of checking him out in the daylight kind of thing. Almost like the morning after and the rush of alcohol had worn off. Sam was waiting on the “oh, no, what have I done” speech, but it never came instead, she reached out her hand and placed it on his wrist, stilling any movement.

Sam took a breath and relaxed, letting the warmth of her small fingers ease him out of the tenseness that twisted his muscles. She tapped her index finger twice on his skin before drawing away.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, and it was just for her, but he saw the way Dean’s lips tipped upwards in a small smile.

“Good,” Kenzie turned and drew a black folder from the bag that rested on the seat against the wall beside her and placed it on the table. With both hands on the plastic cover, her gaze moved from Liz, who hadn’t said a word yet, to Sam and then stopped on Dean. “This is why we called you, why I asked you to come over.”

“What is it?” Sam voiced it, but Dean’s eyes were asking the same question as she slipped the folder between them.

“A haunting,” Liz added to the conversation, and Dean closed his eyes, turning to Kenzie. The way his face changed, the little sign of fear, had Sam shift in his seat.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to hunt while you did this stuff,” Dean’s voice was low, as if he were trying to keep this whole thing contained to just the table and it’s occupants, but it was so protective, deep, that it was nearly palpable. Kenzie didn’t reply, she just met his gaze with one of her own, a defiant, knowing look that while it should have been scary to watched, like two Titans about to go to war, it was… sexy… and Sam blushed. “Answer me, please.”

“Why do you think you’re sitting here and not standing in front of some old, decrepit barn saving my ass?” And that snarky voice had Sam almost snorting his coffee. Liz, who looked as if she was about done with the whole childish behavior sat forward and knocked on the folder.

“A contact of ours in the field asked for help, this is all the information she gave us,” Liz slipped the folder closer to her, opening it up to let Sam look inside because Dean hadn’t bothered to open it yet. Clipped to the first page really was the picture of a decrepit barn, causing Dean to shake his head. “The problem isn’t the ghost, per se, but the victims it’s leaving behind.”

“Victims?” Dean interest was piqued but it was Sam’s fingers that gingerly slipped the folder his way as he started flipping through the papers.

“Yeah, bodies drained of blood, parts missing,” Kenzie cleared her throat, saying that only loud enough to get a reaction from him. “I know what you’re thinking, Winchester, that doesn’t sound like ghost material, but trust me, it is.”

“No, it sounds more like a vampire,” Dean agreed but Sam shook his head.

“And a were,” adding his two cents in. “Dean, all these people…” Sam placed the photo face-down on the table and slid it to his brother, “I think we’ve seen this before.”

“I’m telling you, it’s a ghost,” Kenzie shrugged, knowing that the boys didn’t believe her, but they were only going to fight her on it if she continued.

“What kind of ghost does that?” Dean cringed at the scene captured on paper.

“The kind that’s been there for a few centuries,” Liz shrugged, “so the lore goes, two hundred years ago on that land, a small settlement was slaughtered, the only one that remained was an old woman that put a curse on the property.”

“Great, now it’s a curse, can we get our monsters straight?” Dean growled, and Sam glanced up just as Kenzie’s hand reached out, scratching along Dean’s neck, but it didn’t stop the way his shoulders tensed. “Have you been out there?”

“No,” she smiled, petting her fingers through his hair as he glanced sideways at her. “No, Dean, we’re not that stupid. Urban legends are one thing, especially since most of the ones we find are inconclusive, but with an actual body count,” Kenzie leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his temple, “we talked about this, me and you, and I know a whole lot better than to go into something like that.”

“I know,” he sighed, gently pressing back, like he had needed to hear those words, “I know, I just had to ask.”

“What you should be asking is why?” Liz interrupted and Sam shifted his body to look at her, not just his head, because he was curious as to what was going on in that head of hers. She was smart, Sam could tell by the way she watched everything, analyzing from the sidelines. She was the one who looked everything up, Kenzie was the “all-in” person, he could see it now. It was like looking at himself and his brother, one was patient, one was not so much but they kept each other safe. “The curse brought out whatever nasty spirit was there recently. The victims have been found over the last six months but they’re not all from the same area. A couple of them have been from out of town.”

“So, why come here?” And that one question got Sam’s brain going. He turned back to the folder and started going through it, flipping papers back and forth while Dean sat quiet, only scanning what Sam handed him, until he sat forward. “Got it.”

“Yeah, me too.” Dean set the paper down in the middle just as Sam did the same with something else. The deed to the property. Sam’s brows raised up, in silent communication with his brother and Dean gave a quick raise of his shoulders. “This place have a library?”

“The historical society might be a better place to start.” Liz suggested, getting the brothers to glance at her before confirming with each other that she had a point. Sam collected all of the papers, tucked them back in the folder and shut it as an older man walked by, eyeing the table. “I have to go, Kenzie.”

“One more thing,” Dean spoke up, grabbing her attention. “The two of you drop this right now. As of this moment, you know nothing about this case, it’s out of your hands and you shake it off.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Liz smirked as Sam moved out of the seat to let her by. “There’s one thing to chase them, it’s a completely different level of insanity to step in the middle of it.” She stood beside the table now, Sam slowly sitting down again, and Liz looked over the three of them. “Don’t do anything stupid, and,” she placed the business card down in front of Dean with a handwritten number on it, “this is the guy you need to contact about the property.”

“Thanks,” Dean was less than thrilled about the whole thing, but he knew if he didn’t do something, Kenzie would take matters into her own hands and call on someone less qualified to do that job.

“Call you later,” was the last thing that Liz said to Kenzie before she turned and made her way out of the café, waving to the woman behind the counter.

Dean turned slightly, feeling Kenzie’s hand on his thigh, and glanced between her and Sam. “What now?”

“Well, it’s still pretty early, maybe we can check this out during the day,” Sam shrugged, his eyes landing back on the woman beside them. “It’s not far, right?”

“No, just up the road,” Kenzie reached for the folder, something Dean suddenly grabbed and held out away from her.

“Nope,” he shook his head, and Sam saw her roll her eyes.

“I just wanted to point something out to you.”

“Not touching it.” Dean was adamant that there was no way she was getting her hands on it again. Kenzie growled deeply, a rumble of irritation that Sam heard across the table and shook from, as the tingling went up his spine. “You can keep your little posturing to yourself, Stevens, I’m not letting you get your hands on this again.”

“Dean,” she rolled her eyes, a classic move that told Sam she had been hanging out with his brother and definitely picking up habits, but the older one just shook his head minutely. “Fine,” the fight lessened but didn’t go out of her. “There’s a piece of paper in there that’s covered in redacted statements, like someone wanted it to be covered up, can you fish that one out for me?”

Dean fluttered his eyelids, like he was about to pass out from the pressure she was putting him under, but he did what he was asked and placed the nearly blacked out paper on the table. Sam sat forward as Dean waved a hand over the top of it. “What am I looking at?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged and that got a huff from Dean, and a smirk from Sam who knew just what she was doing.

“Well, that was a colossal waste of time,” his brother snarked.

“No, I mean, there’s nothing there,” she tried again but Dean didn’t seem to be picking it up. It wasn’t until Sam reached for it, turned it in his direction, that Dean slapped a hand down on the paper.

“Dean!” Sam huffed in frustration.

“No, she’s right.” That had Sam’s eyes up on his brother’s face, and he let go as Dean turned the paper around, shoving it back at Sam upside down. “What do you see?”

Sam looked it over, holding both hands out, palms up as he shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just black lines.”

“Okay, what does that tell you?”

Sam was so annoyed that he sat back in the booth, letting his back slam on the hard plastic of the rest but that was the moment his eyes fell on the paper again. Reaching out, he touched it softly with his fingertips, edged it closer and turned it sideways. The black lines weren’t just making whatever words under it disappear, it was spelling out something. Sam got up, snagged the paper off the table and moved back, still facing Dean.

His brow went up in a “ready” question and Dean nodded, as Sam brought the paper up, holding it sideways, letting Dean get a good look at it. From up close it was just a redacted statement, from far away, it was a word. A Latin word. Auxilium.

Dean waved him over, and Sam quickly sat down, before they leaned in close to the center of the table, the woman beside them not forgotten but removed from whatever conversation they were about to have, even if it was just in their minds because she was listening.

“Why ‘help’?” Dean questioned.

“Not sure, but this guy, whoever did the redacting, he’s connected to the land.” Sam grabbed papers out of the folder and set them on the table. “Look at the last names.” Dean’s eyes scanned over every paper again, catching what he had missed. “They’re not related, but they are from the same place.”

“The settlement,” Dean nodded, “the paper is about ten years old, which means if this guy is still alive, we could get some answers from him, if he’s not, well, I’m sure there are people around that could help us out.”

“So, we start with the historical society, move onto this guy, maybe get more information from the local LEOs and then head out to the barn?” Sam laid out the plan as the two of them shuffled things back and forth and to the untrained eye, it would have looked like they were just moving stuff, but Sam could feel Kenzie’s eyes on him, and the way they took in everything. He slowly brought his gaze up to her, ticked up his lip in a small, easy smirk and slowly sat back. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“If it was, I wouldn’t have handed it off,” she stated defiantly, and Dean sat up straight, his eyes boring into Sam with a look of “please, don’t let me kill her,” which only had the younger one smiling. “I’ve been around this one long enough to know when I’m out of my league, and this one is no fairy tale. I’ve seen some of those pictures, not entirely of my own choosing but I know you’re type of thing when I see it.”

“Yet you’re still here and you’re still fucking around with it,” Dean reprimanded and faced her completely. He wanted to be mad, wanted to tell her about all the trouble she could have been in, would have been in if she kept goofing around with it, but his anger faded as he looked into her eyes. Reaching out, Dean let his fingers traced over her jaw, until his fingers rested right under her chin, thumb gliding softly over her bottom lip. They stared for what felt like an eternity before Dean was able to relax. “I’m sorry.”

Kenzie placed her palm over the back of his hand and only grinned. “This isn’t a new reaction from you, sweetheart. I’m used to it by now.”

Dean leaned in, kissed her forehead, before breathing her in and sitting back. He glanced at Sam, who tried hard to make it look like he hadn’t watched the whole thing, and failed, before he grabbed the papers and stuffed them back in the folder.

“Sitting here isn’t getting this done,” Dean grumbled out, his voice low as he tried to be that commanding voice that got everyone motivated to move, but Sam knew it for what it was. Dean trying to cover up his emotions, ones that wanted to get the best of him. “Let’s go do this ‘thing’ and be done with it.”

He slid out of the seat, Sam followed, and they waited for Kenzie to grab the empty mugs, placing them all in the black container before going back for her bag. The three made it out into the parking lot, almost right on top of the Impala before Dean stopped, swiveled, and caught Kenzie by the shoulders. Sam rolled his eyes, moving onto the passenger side, eyes only on them to make sure that they were safe, and that was what he was going to keep telling himself as Dean pulled her in and kissed her.

It wasn’t like the ones he had seen before, not like the moment they were in each other’s arms again, not like the kiss of goodnight, or anything Sam had hoped there was during the night, no this was something much, much more.

Kenzie dropped the bag, her arms coming up to wrap around Dean’s neck as his hand braced the back of her head and then slow just before the curve of her ass. This was possessive, protective, and loving all in the same instance and Sam felt his own breath hitch. Why was Dean’s happiness affecting him so much, why was anything he witnessed so overwhelming?

There was something about this whole thing that made Sam twitch and it certainly wasn’t because of the feelings that seemed to hang in the air. It was thick with the static of before, but also almost sticky and Sam could feel the way his skin pimpled with it.

“Dean,” Sam felt weird breaking up the moment, but the feelings that crept up on him were ten times stranger than interrupting your brother’s kiss.

Dean backed away, catching his breath as he looked down into her eyes. “Yeah,” he acknowledged but wouldn’t let her go, not until he had the final say. “Go home, lock the doors, stay safe,” it was almost the same line he gave to her every time they said goodbye, “wait for my call.” Kenzie nodded, her forehead touching his softly even as he struggled to say the last word, the one she waited for, “please.”

“I love you,” she spoke softly, both sets of eyes remained closed even as she stepped out of his grasp and headed straight for her car.

Dean stood there, hands clenched, eyes tightly shut, and he breathed through whatever was going on inside him. Sam watched his shoulders heave in a desperate attempt to catch himself, to get it locked down, and suddenly he stood tall, swallowed hard enough for Sam to see his throat bob and turned towards the car.

“Let’s go,” was all the words he said, as if everything had been shut off and Sam knew it had to happen that way or Dean would just overthink it and explode.

He nodded, grabbed the handle and slipped into the car, followed shortly by Dean, who slammed the door shut and revved the engine. Despite the sudden need to take everything out on the road, Dean politely backed the car out of the spot, making sure not to kick up gravel towards the other cars there and gently pulled out onto the asphalt, where he then gunned it down the street, leaving the Barnside Café in the rearview.


	6. Wild horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is totally a #NSFW chapter.  
> Gratuitous smut.
> 
> There's always that moment after a case where you need to know you're still alive. Dean has that need, and Sam might be to tired to deal with his mood, so he encourages a little ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome. And again, this was supposed to be a one-shot deal, so if it ends before it ends, well... Thanks everyone who's read so far, please excuse the errors, it doesn't have a beta. My Alpha won't let it. Anyway, not an ABO either. Please leave a comment or Kudos, I'm always curious to hear your thoughts.

The motel room banged against its frame once, the faux wooden door clanking with a hollow noise as it tried to budge but barely moved with the deadbolt locked in place before the audible click of the latch releasing filled the silence of the dark room. The handle turned, the door flew open and banged against the wall, the force not at all lessened by the small mechanism made to stop it from creating a hole in the wall.

Dean moved in, Sam’s arm braced around his shoulder, the taller of the one slumped against him but conscious enough to move of his own accord. Sam groaned as he was unceremoniously dumped on Dean’s bed, one that was still unmade since the “do not disturb” had been placed on the door as soon as they left. No maid service for them, there were too many things in that room to cause whoever stepped in there to question and Dean wasn’t in the mood to answer anything, hell, he almost wasn’t in the mood to move, but Sam needed some attention.

Dean picked up the discarded duffle in the corner of the room, the one that they hadn’t touched or unpacked because until now it wasn’t necessary, and dropped it on the bed beside Sam, who was teetering on falling over. Dean unzipped the bag, grabbed it by its ends and flipped it, dumping out and fumbled around to find what he needed. Cotton swabs and isopropyl alcohol, they couldn’t be that choosy with the things they used and who had time to mix the proper amount of water and peroxide?

Dean moved over, kneeling between Sam’s legs, got the stuff set up beside his brother’s thigh and reached up, grabbing him by the chin. Dean moved his head from one side to the other, checking over the split beside his eye before he doused the cotton ball with the stinking antiseptic.

“Gonna sting, Sammy,” he whispered, his tone soft, like he had always done since they were kids. Sam still hissed even with the warning as Dean dabbed at the cut, cleaning him off. They worked in silence as Dean played nursemaid this time, but Sam was still fighting to keep his eyes open. After the blood was cleaned off, after Dean had stripped his brother down to his tee-shirt and boxers, because there was no way he was letting Sam sleep in stinking grave dirt, Dean helped him lay back on the bed. “You gonna be able to relax or do you want something for it?”

“Just turn off the light,” Sam whined, and while it should have been annoying to hear that small voice coming from his _big_ little brother, Dean patted him on the shoulder and reached for the switch, “it’s too bright.”

“Yeah, I know,” was the only thing he replied as he clicked it off, sending the room into a gloomy yellow darkness. The bathroom light was on, but the pukish tint in there didn’t do anything to help with the fact that the coloring of the room was less than inviting. Dean pulled the blankets up to Sam’s shoulders as the man rolled over on his side and slowly rose from the bed. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned out, reaching for his brother’s hand. Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam’s, letting the warmth of them ease the anger he felt. Sam was alive, that was the main thing, but what he said wasn’t what Dean had expected. “Call her.”

“Sam,” Dean huffed out a sigh as he sat across from him, still not releasing his hold, “she’s fine, you're gonna be all right, why don’t we leave it for now, yeah?”

Sam pffted at him, even in his weakened state. “You know that’s not gonna happen.”

“Shut up and get some rest.” He wanted to be mad, to slap Sam on the back of the head for being that nosy little brother, but he knew that he was right, Dean wouldn’t let it go, not until he heard her voice. “Close your eyes.”

“They’re,” was what came out as Sam let the darkness take over.

“Good, then zip your lips and get some sleep.” Dean felt his fingers slowly relax, releasing his grip on Dean, who gently set them on the bed, tucking them under the blanket before he got up and moved towards the mini-fridge.

He stood for a second, eyes screwed shut, breathing out the fear that he felt after every hunt, and yanked the door open. At least he had the sense to stop and get beer earlier, not that it was going to drown out the hurt like a good bottle of whiskey would, but anything right now was fine. He snagged a bottle from the fridge, twisted off the cap and drank down half the damn bottle before he flopped down in the seat beside the window.

The rain had started up again, and for some reason Dean just wanted to thank whatever higher power was watching over them now that it had held off and Sam wouldn’t be fighting a cold on top of his injuries.

The girls were right, it was a curse, but a vengeful spirit as well. The old woman had remained on the property, going back to die somewhere in the wood, alone. Her bones were covered by centuries of leaves, and dirt in some shallow grave that Dean was sure she had dug herself before possibly dying of exposure. They weren’t easy to find, and Sam had taken the majority of the beating when she came after them for disturbing her remains. Dean had gotten his hits too, mostly to his ribs, one just above his eye, but nothing like Sam, who was choked and thrown up against several trees.

Dean would have been more worried about a concussion if he hadn’t checked Sam over for one pretty thoroughly, there were no signs, no reason to worry about him slipping in deeper with sleep. Sam hadn’t passed out, so major concussion signs were avoided, but he didn’t want to leave him, even with as much as he needed to see Kenzie.

The phone buzzed on the table, and in the empty room it sounded something like a buzz saw, loud and echoing twice before Dean snatched it up and looked down at the screen. He let a small smirk form on his face as his thumb gently caressed the name that flashed there and then harder to open it.

_K: You’re scaring the hell out of me, Winchester. Are you alive?_

Dean scoffed, wasn’t that the burning question they all had? After everything the two of them had been through, were Sam and Dean truly living or was this their own personal hell, but whatever crap that had been brought down on them, one thing resonated with Dean pretty fiercely. There were two angels in his life that had kept him from going to hell, and one of them had literally raised him from it all with a grasp of his hand.

So, he guess…

_We’re alive. Sam’s pretty beat up._

Those little dots were going to be the death of him, because as they bubbled with her response, his heart skipped. He hated waiting.

_K: Will you come see me in the morning?_

Dean rubbed his finger along his lip and sighed.

_I’d come to you now if I didn’t need to watch him._

It would have been too much to ask her to leave her kids again, though the teens would be perfectly safe in her house, Dean had seen to that even if she was completely unaware of the sigils painted in glow-in-the-dark paint in various corners.

_K: Want me to?_

Dean held his fingers over the keypad. He shouldn’t, not with Sam the way he was, but he wanted to, needed to so badly that he could feel the tug in his chest, and he sighed.

_No. Stay home for now, maybe later._

The response was instantaneous, and coded, because what popped up was more of an acknowledgement to his request and not a real answer.

_K: <3 _

Dean dropped the phone, squeezed his eyes tightly, and pressed against them with the heel of both hands, trying to push the headache that was forming back into place. He hated that she was so close but so far away, but Sammy needed him now, and he just couldn’t.

“Oh, my God!” The younger one complained in the darkness. “Dude, I can feel your silent bitching from here. I’m not going to die or bleed out.” Dean huffed because he would probably be a better judge of that since Sam sounded half asleep. “Would you just go to her?”

“I can’t,” Dean sighed, leaning on his elbows, pressing the boney parts of them into his own thighs. “You know how I get after a case, pent up.”

“Sex, Dean,” Sam groaned as he shifted on the bed, “it’s called sex and if you don’t get it from her, you’re just gonna go find some random piece of ass at a bar, not the best way to keep this thing on the up and up, right?”

“If I go, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” Dean wasn’t sure why he was arguing but he was trying.

“Screw off, you need that to happen,” Sam’s laugh was teasing, and Dean sat back. “Man, go to her, take her out somewhere and get dirty.”

“You’re a pig,” was the only response he could come up with because Sam stating what was on his mind was definitely a statement to how hard he had been tossed. Sam had no filter when he wanted to, but this was a little over the top. “Go back to sleep.”

“Go get laid,” and that was the lamest comeback Dean had ever heard. Sam nestled down into he covers and went silent.

It never ceased to amaze him how Sam could shut it off at the beginning, but he knew his brother’s nightmares would be full force at some point in the night. Dean tapped the table twice, grabbed his keys, and his jacket before quietly moving towards the bathroom. He was quick to wash the grime from his face, and his hands before he snatched them both up again and moved to Sam’s side. With a gentle nudge to his shoulder, Sam hummed.

“Going out,” was all Dean said but Sam waved him off before yanking the covers up higher.

He nodded, not at all sure that this was what he should be doing and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Stopping just outside on the mat, Dean bit his lip, screwed his lids closed tight, and took in the night air for a beat before he was off down the stairs and to the car.

The outside light was on, it was always on, but when Dean pulled up he noticed so was the kitchen. It was past midnight, and while Kenzie was not one of those people that went to bed exceptionally early, midnight was just an odd time for her to be awake. He sat there, the car idling for a moment before he clicked off the engine, the headlights and got out, but as usual, he was barely to the bottom step when the front door opened.

Kenzie stood there in warn flannel pajama pants and a fleece robe wrapped around her. Her feet were bare, and her hair was everywhere. She had been thinking, which wasn’t an unusual thing, but Dean could always tell when it was getting to be too much, because her hands would go up into it and there would be snarls and fly-a-ways.

The rain had tapered off to more of a mist, but Dean’s hair had fallen flat, sticking to his forehead as his lips shivered. The night had taken on a chill and even as he stood there, soaked from the rush to the car, he couldn’t move.

Kenzie stepped out, closing the glass outer door behind her as she moved to the top of the step and waited, her eyes going over him, checking for blood and wounds, but there was nothing outwardly for her focus on, so she stepped down, moving closer. Dean was stuck in place, standing just at the bottom of those steps, waiting for her to make the move, because if he did, the neighbors wouldn’t wonder who the guy was that always showed up in the noisy car, they would see a side of Dean that would make them never forgot.

“Are you hurt?” Her voice whispered as it came closer, and Dean’s chest heaved as he tried to control the rushed need to have her in his arms, but he gave a small shake of his head. “Is Sam okay?” Fists clenched at his side as he nodded. “Are you safe?” Which meant could anything have possibly followed him home, and Dean once again nodded, but still hadn’t spoken. His body froze, even the shivering stopped, as she reached out and brushed against the stubble on his cheek. “Is it over?”

Dean was done, he couldn’t take it and in a flash of movement, placed both warm palms against her cheeks, cupping her face as he drew near enough to feel her breath. Kenzie’s hitched, and that small noise was the end of his restraints.

His kiss was soft, bordering on torture as he drew her lips into his, suckling on her bottom one before he grazed it with his teeth. Her hands came to his waist, fighting the layers he wore to find it and dug her finger in. Dean growled at the feel of small tips clinging, scrapping against his skin, and her muted moan in response had him wrapping his arms around her.

His mouth trailed along hers, then over the corner, tasting her jaw, taking in the saltiness where tears had streamed down and he licked at them with the tip of his tongue, feeling her draw in a breath at the warm, wet touch. He moved up behind her ear, drawing in the scent of her, the body wash she had used only hours before mingled with the smell of her shampoo and Dean shivered against the onslaught of perfumed skin. Under those hints of sweetness was her, the way her skin felt, the draw of it and Dean lay opened mouth kisses along the column of her neck, sweeping down to the slope of her shoulder.

Kenzie’s hands moved, sliding up his back, over the nape of his neck and into his hair, fingers small enough to grab the short length, giving him a soft yank back so that his eyes finally connected with hers. There was no need for words, it was all right there in the way they looked at each other and Dean licked at his lips, the taste of her was like a drug, and his reply to her unasked question, the one that shined in her eyes, was a quick nod of her head.

Dean stepped back, glanced at the building behind her, before he took her hand and pulled her down the last remaining step towards the car. Kenzie fished the cell from the robe pocket and sent a quick text out to her son, the one she knew was not asleep on the second floor. Dean opened the driver’s side only and waited for her to slip in, move to the middle of the bench seat, giving the neighborhood one last glance before he jumped in, slammed the door shut and started up the car once more.

With a quick glance back, both could see the shadow at the door, knew the lock on the door was set, and watched as the shape moved away before Dean backed out of the spot and took off down the road. Dean knew just where he was going, only because he had done it a million times before. It seemed to be his thing to know where to park the car for some sort of privacy, but as he headed down Hardwick Pond Road, just off Greenwich, he knew just where he was going.

Pulling into the drive, Dean cut to the right, leaving the U-shaped hall to his left without even a passing glance as he stopped in front of the old garage door. The place wasn’t abandoned, per se, but it wasn’t as patrolled as it used to be. There were acres of land after these two structures, and trails to boot, but Dean’s only interest here was getting inside.

He managed to maneuver the 67’ Chevy into the space between the machinery and stacks of old furniture before he got out and shut the door behind him. There wasn’t any need for light, he knew her body like a map, could follow every curve with his eyes closed and he intended to do just that. Dean left the keys in the ignition, turned the lights and the engine off and slipped into the backseat, eyeing her over as she turned and leaned against the front.

There was just enough light to see her smirk before she made quick work of slipping over the obstacle between them and came to rest on the seat beside him. Dean’s lips parted as he waited, letting the space between them grow more heated with the passing time, with denying her and himself the touch that he wanted. Kenzie slowly shifted, bringing one leg over to place her knee by his left hip, then settled lightly on his lap.

She reached up, hand spread across his sternum and glided it up until it lay gently around his throat. Dean didn’t always surrender control, especially when it came to being in such a vulnerable position, but his eyes flitted closed at the warm feel of her skin tightening around his neck. He swallowed, hearing her take in a quick breath when his Adam’s apple shifted under her palm and gently she pressed against him.

He ran the tips of his fingers over the soft flannel of her pants, letting the feel of the muscles beneath them twitching go right to his crotch, and he was painfully hard. The warm pressure of her lips under his jaw had Dean suddenly gripping her thighs as he fought against his own restraint. A hunt always brought on the need for a quick adrenaline rush, for sex that was rough and life affirming, but he had never been rough with her, because there were always two animals struggling for control inside of Dean, and she was the one that sated them both.

He took in a shaky breath at the moment she started to glide against him, following the way his jeans had ridged, his head dropping back when her free hand reached between them, flicking at the button on his jeans. The groan he let out was his lack of control, or at least the hint that he was losing it, more so when she managed to get the zipper down and her hand slipped in.

Dean jumped at the first caress against his heated skin. He was thick and heavy, fully erect and in need of some release, so when she let go of his throat, her lips still pressed close to his ear, breathing in heavy pants as she continued to move against him, now using the barrier of her hand between them to rub her clit against, causing her own stimuli, Dean could only grip her hips tighter and raise his own.

Those jeans slipped down over his ass, low enough for her to expose him to the chill in the air, and the noise that escaped him seemed to be the button that started a frantic race. Her mouth claimed his, his hands moved to thread through her hair, grasping a fistful as he held her close while she stroked over him.

“Kens,” he groaned as she flicked over his slit, tightened her hand around the tip and let him fuck up into her grip. “Oh, Christ.”

“Help me,” she whispered, shifting to tug off her own bottoms without letting go of him, but that animal need took over and he flipped her down onto the seat where he had spread a blanket out the night before.

Covering the material in the back wasn’t a new thing for him, it helped protect it from the sun, but he was starting to see the subliminal reasons for it, since that had been the first time in a while that he had done it. There was no shocked intake of breath from Kenzie as he pressed her down, sat back and grabbed the material by the waist, yanking it down unnecessarily rough, holding back a moan as her scent hit him.

Kenzie shifted back, letting her shoulders lean against the door as she watched him stare down at her, sitting hard and ready between her legs, jeans down over his ass and her body shook as his hand reached out, resting on her knee. Propped up with her foot flat on the seat, Dean let his heavy hand slid down her thigh, the smoothness of her skin only served to make his cock twitch and slowly he followed that hand, moving his body so that he was kneeling on the empty back floor of the car, his lips trailing after until he reached her center.

Kenzie arched up at the first flick of his tongue against that small nub, unlike most men she had been with, Dean always knew where to find those zones, the ones that had her moaning, wet and needy under him and this time was no different. She wanted to count how many times he licked at her, found the game funny when they weren’t in such a rush to get have that primal connection, but this time, she just reached down, slipped her hand into his hair, and gripped.

Shifting her hips, she felt his tongue run lower, slipping into her with ease as his hand spread her thigh wider so that he could tease her opening with his thumb while the other kneaded at her hip, tucked under to grip her ass.

His mouth was hot, talented and knew every inch of her as he sucked her lips in, running his teeth along their sensitive edge and Kenzie thanked whatever Gods were above that they were in the middle of nowhere because she didn’t recognize the sounds that were coming from her, or the near screams that he was drawing out.

“Dean,” she bucked restlessly against his mouth, feeling the slide of his tongue from one end of her to the other as he moved, slipping a finger in just to tease, “please, I can’t…” she could feel it building, a heat pooling low, the clenching of her muscles around the thickness of just that one digit was almost too much. “No, wait,” begging for release, but also for it to go on was something her mind just wasn’t comprehending, not until he twisted his finger, latched on and sucked hard on her clit. With a deep moan, she swore out his name, “ _Dean_!”

He shifted, soothed her down from the near Earth-shattering way her body trembled with gentle pets and soft kisses while he made his way up her flesh, stopping to pay close attention to the hardened nipples he exposed when he hiked her shirt up so that he could feel her skin against his.

They stared into each other’s eyes, locked there for what felt like hours, drinking in the sight of the love that flowed there, as he moved, pressing into her inch by painfully slow inch. Dean saw the twitch of her lip as he breached her, before she gave in, opened her mouth and let out the most beautiful sigh he had ever heard. Gently, he leaned down, closing the distance to caress her lips with his, while his hand hiked her knee up to wrap around his hip.

The lazy sway of his hips, forward and back, created just the friction they needed, and Dean wasn’t in any mood to go any faster. Their kisses were barely caresses, opened mouths, not caring on going further with it as his hands explored her, and hers did the same. The build up was soft, making love instead of just sex, and Dean was very okay with that. She pulled him down into her embrace, fingers digging into his shoulders as he slipped his arm under her waist and, talentedly enough, shifted until she was straddling his waist, his shoulders back against the warmth she had left on the seat.

His eyes drank her in, a Goddess on her knees on top of him as his hands shifted up her thighs, reached out and brushed over every part of her he could touch. Kenzie held onto the eye contact as long as she could, rising up and pressing down on him with ease, creating a rhythm that they knew, a dance they had done before. Dean had been honest to Sam about what they had, it wasn’t sex, _this_ wasn’t sex. There were no words to describe it.

He let his eyes drift shut, feeling her hands on his chest, gliding over his ribs, touching as he rolled his hips up into her, and she moaned. Dean knew that sound, knew how close she was, but there was no rush, no need for it as she leaned forward and found his lips again. They breathed into one another, took the other in as the pace quickened, when Dean felt everything in him tighten and he broke away, just enough to look her in the eyes.

“Kens,” it was more of a plea than anything, a need for permission almost, but he saw it mirrored in her eyes as she swallowed down a whimper and nodded. Dean took his eyes from her face, focused down on where they were joined together, the wetness there glistened in what little light there was, and Dean could see the base of himself, the way it disappeared into her before giving just a hint of the glistening skin. “Fuck!”

“I can’t,” she whispered, and he smirked, because he sure as hell knew she could.

“Let go, angel, let me have you,” his response wasn’t needed, she was seconds away from coming, from giving into him anyway, but he wanted her to know that he would take anything she gave, even if it was just this moment.

“Dean,” her voice trembled, muscles clenched tightly around him as the friction grew. She was on edge, and he could feel that as he struggled to maintain the pace he needed to get them both to the end, but he bucked up hard, gripping her hips to bring her down against him and that was it, she was shaking. “God…”

It was like the breath was knocked out of her, she sucked it back in after a second but that was all Dean needed, just a second. “Oh…” He panted, feeling the pulse explode from him, keeping himself so deep he swore he could feel her heartbeat. His head slammed back against the seat; eyes screwed shut as the overwhelming black out feeling made him dizzy. “Oh, fuck.”

He didn’t necessarily come down, more like came to, her hand gently caressing his cheek, the backside of her fingers gliding down over his neck and Dean took a deep breath, blinking her into focus as she rested against her knuckles still hovering over him.

“There’s my baby,” Kenzie winked, sitting up a bit more as Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Sorry,” he smirked but she only smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

“Are you kidding?” her laugh was addicting, and he let it fill her with peace, “do you know many girls would be thrilled to have a guy pass out on them just from coming? Best compliment ever.”

“Funny,” Dean’s growl, or attempt at, came out like a groan and he shifted at the sticky feeling on his thighs and waist, glancing down between them. “We forgot… again.”

“Regular testing,” she sighed, shifting down so that she could rest her cheek above his heart. Dean nodded, not that she could see, and ran his fingers through her hair. “Besides, we know it’s not going to happen.”

“I know,” he whispered, almost inaudible, before he looked up through the back window. There was a moment of silence, a long moment that made Dean think she might have fallen asleep, but her fingers ticked when she was thinking, and her body wasn’t nearly relaxed enough. “You think too loud.”

Her voice whispered softly a moment later, “What was it?”

Dean rolled his eyes, knew the question was coming, but only reached down and grabbed the second blanket from the floor, a softly fleecy thing that Sam had bought at Walmart sometime during the last two months because it was getting colder, the one on the seat always smelled like Dean… and _gross_.

He let out a long sigh, released all of the air in his lungs and wrapped her tightly in his arms. “Some shit that you shouldn’t be playing with.”

She laughed against him, not outwardly, nothing he could hear, but he felt her body shake with it. “Not playing with it, which is why I passed it onto you.”

“Good call, by the way,” he leaned up and kissed the top of her head, letting his fingers twirl her hair. “You were right, curse mixed with ghost mixed with what the hell ever. The vics were descendants, all part of the giving back project the town was trying to do, gave the deeds to the relatives and once they claimed it, that woke her up. She was pissed and wanted her land back.”

“Wait,” Kenzie sat up, “the descendants of the settlement or the ones that slaughtered them?”

Dean shrugged, “guess.”

“Jesus, do people not watch horror movies?” She scoffed, settling back down against his warm skin. Dean could feel the fluids drying on his skin and thought about how good a warm shower would feel but he wasn’t about to let her go. “I mean, seriously, all the old shows about myths and legends and these guys are just handing out land.”

“Hey, don’t get all excited now,” Dean grinned, but it was fun to listen to her ranting. The humor died down into a comfortable silence before he ran his hand over her back. “Do you wanna come back to the room? I could bring you home in the morning.”

Kenzie turned against him, arranged it so that she was laying against the backrest, eyes going over his face as her leg hooked his waist. “Would love too, but school.”

“Oh, yeah, five-thirty wake up calls,” he mumbled, “fun times.”

“You know you can come home with me, right?” She lifted her head to look in his eyes. “It’s not like they haven’t seen you there before.”

“Gotta check on Sam,” Dean let his fingers trail down her cheek, “if you got twenty minutes, we could go back, look in on him, then head to your place.”

“Dean,” she sat up, straddling his lap once again, letting him feel her heat and he rolled his eyes. She had some nasty strategies. “You’re exhausted, I can see it. Go back to the room, sleep for God only knows how many hours, and keep an eye on Sam. I’ve got to work anyway.”

He could see the unasked question in her eyes, and he traced her collarbone with the palm of his hand. “Don’t think we’re leaving any time soon. Sam’s got this weird fascination with you. I think he’s your type.”

“Oh, yeah,” she grinned, “think he’ll go for this?”

And she sat back in all her naked glory to let his eyes take in her body.

“Hell, yeah, and if he don’t, I will.” Dean drew her in for one more kiss before she winked and turned, looking for her sleep pants. The smile faded from Dean’s face as he watched her. His mind drawing one last conclusion, before the voice in his head spoke up. _I always will._


	7. Evil Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is as it seems with Kenzie's little town. Seems like there's all sorts of secrets going round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A MOTW chapter, cause... I don't know, I didn't really plan this out... like at all.

**Evil thing**

Sam woke up to a beating headache, something he had hoped to avoid with all the stupid fighting he had done with an old lady ghost the night before, but as he stretched out on the too short bed, his eyes flickered to the one beside him. Dean lay curled up, his faced turned towards him, hand tucked under the pillow where he kept the gun, and surprisingly, he didn’t look worse for wear.

Except…

Sam slid out from under the blankets, moved over towards his brother and rested on his knees, the old, scratchy rug beneath him digging into his skin. That was fine, it wasn’t the worst thing to happen to Sam and the pain was overruled by the fact that… he reached out, tugging the blanket down, stretching out the neck of Dean’s old black tee-shirt. He wasn’t seeing things, it was right there for the world to see, to bear witness.

Dean had a hickey.

“What the fuck, Sam!” Dean’s deep morning voice growled out as the younger one sat back on his heels, fingers still at the neckline of the shirt, holding it back, and met those green eyes. Dean shifted, the touch fell away as he, himself, reached up to place the tips against the bruise, rolling his eyes at the feel of it. “Go away, perv.”

“Did the ghost do that?” It was a legitimate question, because ghost fever was a thing and it could be transmitted with some sort of sexual contact like that.

“No,” Dean grumped and turned over, facing away from him enough that the back of his neck was now exposed. Sam reached out again, and Dean stiffened at the feel of fingers tracing down the back of his neck. He turned his head, glanced at his brother and sighed. “Would you stop touching me, it’s creeping me out.”

“You have scratches.”

And sometimes, Sam could be so dumb.

“There’s not from a ghost, all right, and we can leave it at that.” Dean cuddled down against the hard motel pillows, one wrapped tightly in his arms.

“Oh,” he sat back, blinked away the fog of the night and shook his head, which only served to make his headache worse, “oh, no.”

“’Oh, no’, what, Sam?” Dean sat up, turned towards his brother and looked down as the younger one blushed.

“Was she here? Did you two…” Sam glanced over at his bed, “while I was sleeping?”

“Jesus!” Dean flipped the covers off and walked his brief covered ass into the bathroom where he shut the door, not having to pee, just wanting some privacy to get his head straight, before he opened it once again and stared at his brother, who hadn’t moved. “Sam,” his name was loud enough to get his attention, but just this side of soft to keep Sam from jumping. The kid had some serious PTSD, and Dean tried to remember that, like now, but it didn’t always work. “No, Sammy, she wasn’t here. You said to go last night, remember.” Dean sat down on the bed, not right beside him but close enough that he could reach out and touch his head, run his fingers through his hair, something that he found always soothed the younger one. “I saw her.”

“And you got a hickey?” There were times that he swore Sam was twelve… again.

“Got more than a hickey,” Dean mumbled, and Sam shifted away.

“Ew, gross, don’t touch me,” he whined, “I don’t know where your hands…” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “okay, I’m pretty sure I know where your hands have been. Did you even wash them?”

“Came in and took a shower, butt-munch, you slept right through it.” Dean stood from the bed, grabbed a pair of jeans and slipped them on. There was no way he was going back to sleep now, and it was clearing well past sunrise. Glancing at the clock, he heaved out a breath. It was nearly ten and he needed coffee. Slipping on his boots, he checked out the window, watched Sam get up and make his way towards the bathroom. “You okay?”

Sam paused, hand on the doorsill, not looking at him, “yeah, I guess,” he whispered, “maybe. I feel pretty drained.”

“Kay, I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Dean nodded, as if that was going to fix everything. “Want something?”

Sam thought for a moment before shrugging, “usual.”

Dean let his chin bounce twice, acknowledging his request, and listened to the door close before he stood and headed out the front, keys in hand.

When he got back, the shower was running. Setting the tray down, along with the bag that contained two to-go boxes of greasy goodness, Dean stepped over to the door and listened. Sam was moving around in there, probably shaving, probably not, but he was alive and active, so that was a good thing. Shucking off his jacket, he sat down at the table, yanked the phone from his pocket, before pulling the black coffee from the tray. This morning it needed sugar.

He was texting with Cas when Sam stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist, scrubbing another one over his hair, but Dean didn’t look, he was well into whatever he was reading on the screen, and Sam sat down on the bed, feeling ten times better than before.

“What are you staring at?” Sam finally spoke up, fed up with the silence.

“Cas sent something…” Dean glanced up, only to take in his brother appearance, checking over the new purpling bruises from the night before, nothing life threatening and he went back to the phone, “it’s weird.”

“Him doing anything on the phone is weird,” Sam stood and made his way over, getting Dean to sit back as he snatched the phone and sat down beside him. Sam’s gaze peeked up once at his brother’s overly annoying need to make sure he wasn’t dying before going back to the phone. “Stop that.”

“Go get dressed,” Dean monotoned back, “you don’t want me to triage you, put some clothes on.”

“You know, you can be an asshole sometimes,” Sam sighed, trying to concentrate on the article about the strange deaths in Sturbridge that sounded a lot like the crap they had taken care of two days ago in Dudley.

“What are big brothers for?” Dean patted him on the shoulder, something Sam flinched from and Dean shook his head, “see, not an asshole. What hurts?”

Sam placed the phone down gently, folded his fingers together and set them on the table as if he were getting ready to give him a lecture, but his posture deflated, even more so when he caught a whiff of the pancakes. “Everything hurts, Dean, but I blame that on the tree… and the stone… and maybe the solid ground I hit.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Dean reached over, pulled the bags closer and dealt out the breakfast, but placed a hand over the lid before Sam was able to open it. “Clothes… now.”

Annoyed, well beyond annoyed because that headache was getting stronger, Sam stood, whipped around and snatched his bag from the dresser before heading into the bathroom. It took only a few minutes, and he knew that the damage bothered Dean more than anything because he was a fix-it man, and he couldn’t fix Sam.

Sam returned to the table as dressed as he felt like getting, jeans and a tee-shirt, there was no need for more layers, or socks. Sitting down, he reached for his food, glanced at Dean who was stuffing bacon in his mouth and took a second to breathe out.

“Head hurt?” was the only thing that he heard from the older one.

“Like a bitch,” and he wasn’t surprised when Dean passed the unlabeled bottle of pills his way. He didn’t even know why Dean bothered to ask. Sam popped a couple out, swallowing them down with his coffee, and proceeded to dig in, stopping about halfway to glance at that hickey again. “She okay?”

Dean’s fingers automatically went to that small patch of skin, and Sam looked up just in time to see him blush, “Yeah,” he smiled, “yeah, she’s good.”

Sam picked up the phone again, looking over the size of the font before taking in the way Dean rubbed his tired eyes, and wondered if his brother needed glasses. The article was pretty clear, same MO as the things they took care of before but that was in itself weird because he was pretty sure they had wiped them all out.

There was just something strange about it all.

“Weird question,” Sam placed the phone face down on the table and played with the food in front of him. “Does Kenzie know any urban legends around here, I mean the area itself?”

“Besides the whole ghost towns under the Quabbin, I think the area is more linked to witches and ghost than urban legends,” Dean talked around the pancake in his mouth, but finished chewing and picked up the phone. “She’s at work but I can always try.” Sam watched with growing impatience as Dean typed out a message, then set the device back down. “Now it’s a hurry up and wait.”

“Why?”

“Don’know, she’s driving, maybe,” he reached for his coffee, but paused as the phone buzzed against the table, “or maybe not.” He met his brother’s gaze as he lifted the phone, cleared his throat and read it out loud. “It’s called a Clauneck,” Dean sighed, hoping she wasn’t going to come back with anything, “apparently, it’s a demon that grants wishes and can be summoned by witches because it’s in the Grimorium Verum.”

“The True Grimoire,” Sam mumbled, his eyes locking on some spot on the table, and Dean shook his head. His brother was about to access that big brain of his to pull out any information he might have read _ever_ in his life about the book.

“Anyway, she say that there’ve been a few recent legends about a cave somewhere in Sturbridge along Westville Lake, that, and I quote ‘can only be seen when the light of day touches the darkness of night’. Why does this shit have to be so cryptic?” Dean rubbed his forehead before he sat back and placed the phone on the table.

“Dusk,” Sam scoffed, “it’s not cryptic, it’s dusk.”

“Okay, Mr. Smartypants, what the hell is a Clauneck and how do we stop it?”

“According to the lore,” which Sam had pulled up on his phone because he had actually thought to scan in all of the files he could on the northeast before leaving home, “a Clauneck is a demon that was well loved by Lucifer, and he is summoned because he has the ability to bestow wealth, either by bringing money over a great distance or by assisting in the discovery of hidden treasure.”

“So, greedy bitches,” Dean tapped the table, “what else is new?”

“Except sometimes wealth isn’t money, Dean,” Sam shrugged, biting on his lip.

“Whatever, it still involves blood and probably the inhuman treatments of woodland creatures,” he stood and cleared the table, having lost his appetite for what was left in the box. Sam sat back, set his phone down and glanced over, watching Dean’s movements. “You think they’d stop with the bodily fluids.”

Sam nodded, smirked a bit and reached for Dean’s phone, pulling it closer as it buzzed again. The text that lay in front of him was even more curious than the new case. The legends weren’t just thirty minutes west, they were also right there in town.

“Hey, Dean, where’s the dam in town?” Dean cocked a brow as he turned to eye Sam over, like he had lost his mind, “not in this one, but in Kenzie’s town, where is it?”

“Ah,” he crossed his arms, mapping out the place in his head before he shrugged. “There’s a spot right on the west side headed out. It’s dammed off in two places, but that’s the only ones I know of.” He narrowed in on Sam’s face, the same one that always had this expression of he found something, just this side of an obsession. “No.” Dean adamantly shook his head, “no, no, no, Sam. No.”

“Hear me out,” Sam started to stand but Dean took the three steps across the room to lock him down.

“No,” his voice was commanding, but gentle, resting his hands solidly on Sam’s shoulders. “At least not now, please. I haven’t gotten enough sleep, and you’re still healing from last night. So, whatever got your motor going, stow it for now, at least until we can sit down with Kenzie and go over all the details.”

Sam closed his eyes, trying to let the stream of endless possibilities in his mind settle. “Yeah,” he breathed out, like all of the fight went out of him, and it was just as well because whatever Dean had given him was about to kick his ass. “Okay.”

“Good,” Dean’s grip grew tighter and he was suddenly helping Sam from the chair to a standing position. “I need a nap.”

He left him there, stalked his way over to the bed, and stripped back down to his briefs and tee again. Sam turned, a little sludgy himself, and thankfully made it to the bed before falling face first into the pillows. Dean had managed to grab his phone, shot off a text, and placed it on the stand between them.

Sam fought for only a moment, just long enough to see Dean sink in and sighed. Dean was safe, he was safe, all was well with the world. It could do without him for a little while.

The drug induced darkness dragged him down, cutting off the outside, giving him exactly what he needed. Peace.

It was two when Sam sat up quickly, like someone had taken a cattle prod and stuck it against the bottom of his bare feet. With his eyes focused and his breathing slowed, he found he wasn’t far from the truth.

Cas stood there, dressed in his usual garb, the tan trench, his dark business suit underneath, but there was a confused look on his face as his brows knitted together. The pen in his hand, tip out, was what really got Sam’s attention, that and Dean barely holding in a laugh at the table.

“Cas, did you…” Sam coughed out, looking down at his feet and the way that the covers were haphazardly tossed off them, “did you poke me with a pen?”

“No,” Cas admitted, his gravelly voice still confused as he tilted his head to the side, and Sam let out a breath, until… “Dean said running the pen up them would give you less of a shock than actually calling your name to wake you.” Sam got pissed instantly and turned his hazel eyes on his brother, and that cracked the small wall the held back the older one’s cackle. “Was he wrong?”

“Cas,” Sam cleared his throat as he slowly shifted out of the blankets and looked down at the long line of blue ink that ran the length of his foot before turning his eyes to the angel again, “we talked about never listening to what Dean tells you to do when regarding waking me up, right?”

“Yes,” the man with the bright blue eyes nodded, with absolute certainty.

“Even when he swears to you that it won’t turn my hair blue, or cause me any pain, right?” Cad nodded in reply, but when Sam stood, his full height still towering over the angel, Cas shrunk a little. “Remember that.”

Sam walked by, grabbed a dirty pair of boxers from the floor and tossed it at Dean as he headed into the bathroom. The man at the table was mid-laugh, mouth open, eyes closed, just rolling with it when the filthy item landed right on his face. Dean jumped, yanked it from him, and proceeded to try and wipe off any germs he had contracted all while Cas stood there completely bewildered.

“Hey, come on, that was funny, Sam!” Dean yelled, but the sound of the shower and the sink running at the same time was the only response he got. “Baby!”

“Dean, what am I doing here?” Cas interrupted the childish behavior, turning the older one’s attention on him and away from Sam.

“I, ah… um… well,” Dean huffed and sat down. “Listen, that thing you sent me this morning, about the deaths in Sturbridge, how did you find it?”

“You could have saved time and just called,” Cas took seat at the table, his face going from confused to angry, because he was still just a little miffed at Dean for something that happened two weeks ago. Dean’s unchecked anger had him belting out something he didn’t mean without thinking first, not an excuse, and Dean knew it, but he had apologized over and over, Cas just hadn’t let it go. “I was in the middle of something.”

“In the middle of what?” Dean was curious, but of course the tone came off as jealous and Cas gave a small shake of his head.

“If you need to know, I’ve been tracking Jack,” and he knew that Dean wasn’t going to like that idea. The kid had been off in the wind, again, for the last three weeks, without a call, text, or prayer being answered. Hey, he was a teenager, Dean got that, but ever since things had settled down, he’d been an ornery one, which he blamed on Sam, but it still didn’t mean he had to run off without word. “It’s going well, if you want to know.”

“Of course, I want to know, Cas, he’s my kid too.” Dean snipped back but then sucked in a huff. Great, five kids that he had screwed up, the total keeps getting bigger. “So, narrow it down yet?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Cas gazed up, locked his blue eyes on Dean and narrowed them. “Dean, why are you still here?”

He stumbled a bit, thought of telling Cas the real reason he had given the angel the names of a woman and her children to save should it come to it and he wasn’t around, but he shook it off and watched the bathroom door open. “The case rubbed me the wrong way, so we stuck around the area. Good thing, right, we’d be home by now and turning right back around.”

“The article I sent you does have to do with the coven you were chasing, however, while the coverage is out of Sturbridge, I believe the story originated closer to here, in a town about fifteen minutes up the road.” Cas shifted in his seat, sitting up straighter as he put his hands on the table. Dean grabbed the half empty coffee cup, pushed the seat back and headed for the microwave. “If your source is correct, if this is Clauneck, then there is more at stake here than just a summoning gone wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Sam stood by the edge of the dresser, waited for Dean to grab his coffee out of the microwave, and then shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, closest to him. “There’s not much about him, nothing too bad, I guess but he is still a demon.”

“That demands respect,” Cas added. He slouched down, leaning on his elbows way from the table and folded his fingers together. “If memory serves, Clauneck was loved by Lucifer, which gave him certain rights and privileges in Hell, including the right to take back the wealth he bestowed on the people who summoned him. He would find them treasure, bring money from afar, but if a deal wasn’t followed through, Clauneck had the right to harvest the souls of those who didn’t hold true to the contact.”

“Like a crossroads demon,” Dean added, “run like your ten years are up.”

“Exactly,” Cas agreed, “I looked over your previous case, the ones you finished two days ago. Those witches lost control of the demon, setting him out into the world with no tie to a master, or a summoner, this gives me pause only because that means anyone walking by could make a wish and set themselves on a course for ruin, or death.”

“So, how do we find him if he’s not tethered?” Sam sighed.

“Your source said that there was a legend around water, correct?” Cas raised a brow, which got Dean to nod in response. “My suggestion is to start there.” Cas stood, drawing out his phone. The buzz of a text message had him looking irritated again. “I have to go, Charlie believes she’s found a lead on Jack in Southern California, I need to investigate before it goes cold.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam gave him a small smirk as Dean stood and stepped up to the angel.

“You’re welcome,” but when the angel turned to Dean, the two of them stood in a stare-down that made even Sam nervous. Cas reached out, grabbed Dean by the upper arm, his thumb gently running over his collarbone, and squeezed. “We’ll talk more when you get home.”

Dean lowered his eyes, wanting to reply but the moment he took his gaze from the other man, Cas was gone, the weight of his hand had disappeared, and Dean slumped.

“Looks like it’s getting better,” Sam spoke up, but Dean only gave a curt nod before settling back down in the chair. “Dean, you and Cas, you’ll fix this, you always do.”

“Can we just concentrate on whatever the hell this demon wants?” Dean sighed, “I don’t know how many more sessions I can do, Sam. I don’t wanna talk about anything anymore.”

“I get it,” but there was still so much about Kenzie that Sam didn’t know, “where do you wanna start?”

“First, coffee,” Dean tipped the empty cup upside down, “then out to the dam, I guess.”

Sam reached for his boots as Dean chucked the cup into the trash.

Sam stood at the end of Canal Street as the cars zipped around the curve over the bridge, not the safest place to be taking pictures, but Dean was right about one thing. It was fucking creepy. The bridge itself was old, the green iron bars that stood up on top of the three-foot concrete wall were bent and mangled, and while it might deter someone from jumping off and landing on the jagged rocks two-stories below, it apparently hadn’t done much to stop the cars that had nearly taken it out.

The concrete itself was scarred with paint from vehicles of all different heights, and with the way they were passing, he wouldn’t be surprised if there had been a death there at one point. Dean made his way back from the other side of the bridge, cell in hand as Sam shifted his weight nervously. When they stood together, both men leaned against the flimsy guardrail that separated the edge of the small one-way with the rest of the main road.

“Well, I’ll give this town credit, they sure as hell know how to keep things ominous,” Dean stuffed one hand in his pocket as he placed a hand on the wall. Sam stood there, both hands hiding in his coat as they surveyed the rest of the dam.

It was part rock wall, part man-made and while the flow was less than fantastic at the moment, like they had opened a spillway somewhere else, Sam knew that once those gates were open, stepping down there could kill someone if they got swept up in the current.

Trees grew along the sides, which would make climbing down into it so much easier and from where they stood, they could see the cave. Dean wasn’t sure that wasn’t man-made as well. It went under a row of houses, straight though to what he would call a holding tank for any extra water, but he was pretty certain that wasn’t the name. Plus, it made him shiver at the thought of stagnant water. The pool itself probably contained the bodies of no less than a dozen people somehow weighted down at the bottom. Of course, he was morbid as hell, so his thoughts automatically went there.

“Well, it said dusk for the other thing, how much you wanna make a bet, this one’s the same?”

Sam thought it over a moment, turned and walked further onto Canal, away from the cars, and without a blink, Dean followed. They stopped further up, where the bushes became thicker and the rail seemed to disappear, but the cave was in full view. Graffiti artist had once had a field day with the entrance, having been painted to look like an opened mouth to hell, but the weather and the water had warn it down to next to nothing, only that above the waterline remained.

“Charming and inviting,” Dean stated sarcastically, and Sam fought to hold back a smile. Not ten paces down the street, further into the trees, was a path, and with a tick of his head in that direction, both men headed towards it.

Sam stopped at the top, glanced around, checked for the firearm at the waist of his jeans and the flashlight in his pocket, before watching Dean do the same thing. With a slight rise and fall of his shoulders, Dean gave the go-ahead and Sam made his way down the side of the hill. There weren’t many pine needles to slip on, in fact the path was clean of anything that might cause the traveler to slip and fall, and they found themselves standing along the rocks at the bottom without so much as one wrong step.

“Oh, great, looks like my feet are getting soaked tonight,” Dean grinned, “and you have to deal with the smell.”

“I think we need to talk to Kenzie,” Sam replied, ignoring the childish banter that Dean had tried to start, which stopped the instant Sam said her name.

“She needs to stay out of this, Sam.” That fierce protective sound rumbled from Dean’s chest as he spoke. “I swore I would never drag her into one of our cases.”

“But she knows, Dean,” he turned, releasing a breath slowly, “she knows the legends better than we do, and she’s lived here longer, maybe there’s something…”

“NO!” Dean pointed at him, brows raised as his lips drew tight, “no, we’re not bringing her in. You wanna see her, fine. You wanna ask her everything under sun about us, go for it, but we are not involving her in this case.”

Dean turned, trudging his way back up the hill. Sam stood facing the cave, taking in the way the rocks looked, how they slopped, and he mapped out the easiest way to get across, committing it to memory for later. Dean wasn’t going to listen, he wasn’t going to let Sam talk to Kenzie, and he understood why, but Sam also felt like there was something she could tell them, he just didn’t know what.

Turning, he made his way up the hill, following Dean out onto the street and back the way they came, crossing over the bridge to a small parking lot surrounded by converted mill buildings. This place had been an old railroad town, now it was just doing it’s best to keep up and going.

“Real quick,” Sam spoke before they got into the Impala, “stop at the town hall, I want to check something out.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, swinging the door wide, “nerd.”

It wasn’t that Dean wasn’t taking this whole thing seriously, it was the fact that it was sitting right in Kenzie’s backyard that bothered him. Sam didn’t seem to get it, of how the mention of involving her set off the sheer panic in his heart, one that clenched his chest and made it hard to breathe, but there was no way Sam could know. Dean had been doing this forever, forcing down the waves of nausea whenever something was too close to her, knowing at some point his luck would run out and she would be in danger, but he was doing everything he could to keep it away from her, including keeping her from Sam.

The younger one was in the town hall, probably giving them the soft eyes and easy smile he always did in order to get what he wanted, which was into the historical archives. Sam was sweet, he was a good guy, but he was a master manipulator, just like Dean. He could get any woman, or man if that was his target, to fold and let him have anything he wanted. Sam was no different, in fact, Sam was better at it.

The kid could smile and shy-talk his way into anything, anywhere, even with his height, which was probably the most intimidating thing on him when he wanted it to be, but just like Dean, Sam was a killer. A ruthless, no-holds-barred killer, however Sam had one thing that Dean didn’t, a sense of the world that Dean had never grasped onto. Sam knew when things weren’t just black and white, he understood it, and while Dean had gotten better at it, it was still his MO to go back to “monsters are monsters, plain and simple,” which didn’t win him any points with the ladies.

With Kenzie, the world had taken on color, and even the black had muted to gray, giving him a sense of peace, the ability to relax. The time spent with her and the kids was… dare he say it… normal, and while he had that kind of life with Lisa, it hadn’t been the same. It was living, not being alive. There was passion between him and her, but it had settled into more of just a routine, a kind of grasping at straws, where he felt the tingle of every one of Kenzie’s touches the moment she was back in his arms.

But he had made a promise to Sam, and he held it until the moment he absolutely couldn’t.

The door opened, shaking him from the memories, of the inner monologue that was going on in his head, and he watched as Sam folded himself into the seat, a stack of old green books in hand. See, probably pulled the puppy dogs eyes on whoever it was to get those things out of the dusty basement.

“Did you steal them?” Dean was quick to ask as he started up the car, and pulled out into traffic, heading for the nearest parking lot _away_ from wherever Sam had lifted the books.

“No, they had copies,” but the accusation actually brought a smile to his face. “So, there have been a few catastrophic events in town, but the biggest one was a flood in 1936.”

“Isn’t that the one that pretty much devastated most of New England?” Sam was impressed. “But that doesn’t give us Clauneck vibes, there’s nothing wealthy in this town.”

“Except there is, and that’s the main majority of the towns larger families have remained the same since the flood.”

“So, a round up?”

“No, nothing that spectacular, we just need to make sure that hole is where it’s hiding. I think we can take it out, exorcise it back to hell, and cross it off the list.”

“Town’s not gonna be please.” Dean pulled out into the road, headed back towards the motel, but as he stopped at a light, his cell buzzed. Sam swiped it off the seat, gave him a quirked smile and showed him the “sexy car” text that flashed across his screen. “She’s driving around here somewhere.”

“Figured,” Sam grinned and placed the phone down.

Dean took a deep breath, prayed he had the strength to stay away from her until this was done, and rolled through the light as it turned green.


	8. Come Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes for the deep questions this time, delving into the darkness to see what Dean has to say about Hell and Purgatory. They also get just a bit more information about this weird case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, eight chapters, so much for a one-shot. We'll see how far it keeps going. Thanks for reading, feel free to comment, kudos, hate it. It's definitely gone further than I first thought it would. I'm going to see if I can write another chapter on it. I can't promise how or when it will end, so enjoy while it's here. ~ D

**Come Monday**

Sam had everything spread out on the table’s top, overflowing to the chair, some laid out on the dresser as well, and the fifteen-inch laptop was open where he could see the archived from the Bunker. The small green books that he had gotten from the historical society were open to certain pages, being held that way by anything that might weigh it down without breaking the spines. He was standing there shifting back and forth, eyes going from one thing to the other as Dean paced the room, the edge of his finger running along his lip as he stared down into the open book of lore in his hand.

This had been going on for a while, probably too long for either of them to remember how it started but there was an endgame. They needed to find out more about Clauneck and just what they needed to do to summon him or stop him. Exorcisms were a tried and true method, but this was a demon they hadn’t dealt with before, or more to the point, a level of demon. They weren’t sure if it was something that _could be_ exorcised or if there was something more needed.

There was a light knock at the door, a sound that made both instantly stop, exchange uncertain glances, and waited for it to come again. Sam raised a brow, one that Dean only returned with a slight shrug before reaching back for his gun, and Sam made his way to the door. He reached out slowly, heard the click of the safety from behind him, and wrapped his fingers around the knob.

“Seriously, guys, if I was a monster, I would have broken down the damn door by now,” Kenzie’s voice grumbled loudly though the cheap faux wood, and instantly Sam was standing straight, “it’s pouring out and I’m getting wet. Just let me in.”

Sam turned the handle, yanking it open to see the woman standing under the light, shivering as she clutched the messenger bag tightly to her chest. She was soaked, her hair flattened down on her head and she gave Sam just a small smirk, before she pushed passed him.

“Not a vampire, so not waiting for an invitation,” she growled plopping the bag on the nearest bed before quickly losing her wet coat. Dean came to the rescue with a towel from the bathroom, sniffing it quickly to see if it was his or Sam’s, he could usually tell by the scent of the body wash, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Sorry, I have no idea where this storm came from.”

“Kens,” Dean whispered, grasping her shoulders as he leaned down and looked right into her eyes, “not that I’m not thrilled to see you but…”

“Why am I here?” She leaned forward and stole a kiss before he knew what was happening, dropped the towel and slipped out of his grasp. Dean stood, a bit confused, and watched her go over towards Sam. “So, I got thinking about the legends you asked me about,” and Dean shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head. He knew it was a bad idea. “And I figured I would dig up some stuff about the area, and that lead me to this.” Commandeering the laptop, she punched in a web address that instantly had a dozen articles popping up. “This,” she glanced up at them, “is all about the demon in the rocks.”

“The what?” Dean crossed his arms, watched her shiver once at his tone of voice, before she moved to strip off the sweater.

His irritation that she had followed through with his inquiry was soon forgotten as he pulled the flannel from his body and handed it to her. Sam tried to hide the smirk that rose up when Dean rolled his eyes, walked over and helped her put it on, even sat down in order to look her in the eyes while he buttoned it up. His face was soft, the look in his eyes was full of… dare Sam say it… love, and his fingers were gentle as they popped the buttons through, but he saw the moment Dean got frightened, and rolled his fingers into the excess fabric, tugging her closer to stand between his legs.

“I don’t want you involved.” At least he was honest, and Sam turned away, hoping to not get caught being a peeping Tom to their romance.

“I’m not,” her voice was light, airy in a way that made Sam blush, and he wasn’t even looking, but he could hear the way her fingers moved over Dean’s shirt. “I’m bringing you what I have, Dean, this is what I do, I find shit and I share it. Let me do this for you, okay, just this once, let me help.”

There was a long pause, like the man was thinking it over too hard, and then a sigh, “fine, but just the information, okay?” He was pleading with her, there was a hint of begging in his voice, “what do you got?”

“Well,” she was smiling, Sam could hear it in her tone, “if you let me go, I show you.”

“Not going to happen,” was the whispered promise that he made, but Sam felt the small hand on his back after a long moment of silence.

He stood straight, turned, and glanced down at Kenzie, who winked and grabbed the laptop, “do you mind?” Sam shrugged, leaned against the table, and followed her movements as she sat beside Dean, looking up at the younger one as she patted the space beside her on the bed. “I’m not trying to rope you into a threesome, sexy, but I’m not standing up for this either.”

“That line work for you often?” Dean scoffed. Sam felt his skin heat up, the rush of blood to his cheeks, but made his way over and plunked himself next to her, watching the way the two of them gazed like two love-struck teenagers at each other before he tore away.

“Once or twice,” she replied, overflowing with confidence, but the line had gotten Dean’s attention.

“Really? Do tell.”

“Focus, Winchester,” Kenzie patted him on the cheek, and opened the first tab. “Okay, this is what I got for you on your little demon legend.” Flipping through the articles, she stopped on one with a large, open field in the middle of nowhere. It was just a picture, but Sam leaned in closer. “This was back in 1943, in a field close to the center of Hardwick, which is not as big as it sounds. The commons includes about twelve houses dating back to the establishment of the town and a whole bunch of corn fields. This one was part of a myth of the demon only because the story behind it couldn’t be explained. Two children were lost in the cornfields that back in those days stretched on forever, they up and just disappeared… for weeks, until one day they were seen coming out of this field. The weird thing was, there wasn’t a mark on their body, no exposure to the elements, nothing that said they had been out there probably starving.”

“Not weird, kids are always better equipped to figure their crap out than adults,” Dean shrugged, but Kenzie switched to another tab, showing the same field and a strange figure standing in the middle of it, where two trees grew. The limbs on the trees were gangly and demonic looking, bare of most leaves except for the top. Next to them stood a woman, very small in size, but tall in height. “What the hell is that?”

“According to reports, their mother.” Kenzie paused for dramatic effect, and it worked. The picture was dated 1996. “She died twelve years after the events of her children’s disappearance and subsequent return, but she had withered to nothing. They assumed that she had died of Tuberculosis, having basically been a breathing skeleton by the time she passed, but when this photo was taken for the town archives of the founding families, her grandchildren looked into it a little bit more.”

“She made a pact?” Sam questioned, and her eyes turned up to catch his.

“She made a wish,” Kenzie corrected. “They found her old journals in the attic of the house the family once occupied, they were buried in the back among some forgotten boxes, and they found that during the time the children were missing, which was all documented in her writings, she made an entry that stated she had ‘traveled to the Weir River to pray’.”

“The one that runs through town?” Dean stood up slowly, moving towards the mini-fridge. It had always been his go-to, especially when he was digesting information. He would grab a beer and pace or kick his feet up on the table. Right now, he was moving back and forth through the room. “So, she asks Clauneck for her kids back, but at what price?”

“Exactly,” Kenzie shrugged. “It’s not like a crossroads deal, there isn’t ten years. It looks for respect, it demands it, or it kicks your ass.” She put the keyboard down on the bed, stood and walked over to him, grabbing onto his tee-shirt to stop his movements, but Dean was shaking, not visibly, just enough for her to feel it when she touched him. “He wanted her devotion and she stopped going to the river, stopped praying to him and he locked her to that land.” Dean closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Dean drop this case, please.”

“People are…” he started to whisper.

“People are making their own choices, making their own bed,” she sighed, reaching up to cup his cheek with the palm of her hand, “let them lie in it before you end up hurt. They’re not innocent, Dean, they know exactly what the hell their doing.”

“I can’t,” he sighed, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “I can’t let it go, it’s my job.”

“To save lives,” she smiled, but it was forced and Sam’s heart nearly broke as he watched, but he didn’t have it in him to interrupt. “Before you go hunting him down, I want you to think really hard about leaving it be.” Dean’s sigh echoed through the room. “This demon has been around here for centuries, it’s not going to just disappear when you yell some Latin words at it, Dean, it’s going to be angry and it’s going to come after you.”

“I know,” he nodded, but he wasn’t going to drop it and she knew it. “It’s too close to you.”

Kenzie snorted, “and that’s why you’re going in full barrel? Because you’re trying to protect me?” Dean’s hands rested on her waist as she took a step back to look him dead in the eyes. “I don’t need your protection, Winchester, I need you.”

And Kenzie turned, grabbed her sweater, and the still soaked coat and walked right out of the room. 

Dean stood there, eyes closed, fists clenched and waited to hear the sound of the door to the car closing, waited for the rev of the four-cylinder engine before he let his body crumble and he leaned back hard against the dresser.

“You’re just going to let her go?” Sam was suspicious because he could see it in Dean’s face that all he wanted to do was run out the door after her, hop in his car and chase her down.

“It’s better this way,” Dean replied, bringing the beer to his lips, but he didn’t drink, he just held it there before he put it down hard against the cherry top. “If she’s pissed, she’ll stay away.”

“That’s not how this works, Dean,” Sam sighed, but made no move to stand because just seeing Dean’s posture told him that a fist would fly if he got any closer. “You’re breaking your own heart pushing her away like that, keeping her pissed off at you.”

“So what!” It wasn’t a question; it was definitely a statement that he belted out. “I told you I didn’t want her involved, that it was too close. She’s at ground zero, Sammy, right in the thick of it. Seriously, I don’t think I went far enough to keep her away. I should have had Cas pick up her and the kids and plunk their asses down in the bunker.”

“She would have hated you for it,” Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, then back through his hair.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean whispered, defeat in his tone, “she can hate me all she wants as long as she’s alive and out of the way.”

“Man,” Sam finally stood and made his way passed him, pausing to catch his eye, pointing a finger right at his chest, “you better fix this when it’s over,” Dean scowled at him, but Sam went on, “I’m not kidding, I want to know my niece and nephews.”

Oddly enough, that brought a small smirk to Dean’s face and he ducked his head, trying to hide it, but Sam had seen it as he continued towards the table. For a moment, the room was plunged into silence, until the discarded cell on the table buzzed, vibrating several of the large books that sat there. Sam reached out and picked it up, smirked at the message, and without looking back, handed it to Dean.

His green eyes flickered over the screen and Sam heard the way his body relaxed by the sound of the rush of air that left his lungs. He knew what the message said, had seen it before he passed it off, and for once, he was happy that someone was as thickheaded as his brother.

_K: I love you and you’re an asshole. Don’t die, come over when it’s done so I can kiss you._

Dean tried to hide the smile, cleared his throat and tucked the phone away as fast as he could before he walked over to the bed and snatched the computer up. Sam glanced over, a small smirk on his face as the two of them went back to the way things had been before the wily woman had interrupted.

And then, out of nowhere came, “she has my damn shirt!”

Sam choked on the laugh that busted out of his gut. Leave it to Dean to lose his clothes in broad daylight.

It was dark by the time they finished up going over as much of the lore as they could, not that they found much more than what Kenzie had provided them with and that they already knew, but it was more than they started with. Dean was starving, needed to get out of the stuffy room, and without preamble had basically told Sam to get ready and get in the car.

Where they ended up was _Friendly’s_ down the road on Main Street.

The restaurant had seen busier days, but Dean appreciated the quiet booth in the corner behind the privacy wall, one that cut him off from seeing the people enter and gave him full view of the dining room. He sat with his back to the wall, Sam’s gargantuan body shifted off to the right so as to not block his view, which he appreciated, pacing himself through the burger and fries. They didn’t serve beer, but Dean was more in the mood for a Coke anyway.

Sam cleared his throat, a sure sign that he was about to pry into Dean’s torrid past one more time. He slowly put down the soda, letting it rest silently on the table before he moved to his fries, hoping that the lack of acknowledgement would keep his younger brother from actually going ahead with the queries he had.

He should have known that nothing stops the nosy Winchester.

“Can I ask you something without you laying me out on the table?” his voice was meek, and Dean wondered just how deep the PTSD went if Sam actually thought he would hit him over anything that wasn’t a life or death situation. And even then, Dean had taken the hits given to him by Sam, possessed by the devil himself, without so much as a thought to harming his brother. Dean shrugged it off, better to let Sammy see his guard down than all tensed up over what the next burning question might be. “You were gone…” the pause was what got Dean to really look up at Sam, take in the way he avoided looking at Dean, and he sat back slowly, hands spread wide, vulnerable. “Did you ever tell her you went to Hell?”

Dean nearly choked on the fry he had managed to stuff in his mouth before Sam went with _that_ , but patted his chest to dislodge it as he reached for the soda. “Jesus, Sam, warn a guy before you pull out something like that.”

“I just…” Sam took a deep breath, “you talked about Lisa and Ben, you told me about Issy and going up to see them, how she was your light, but have you really told her all the dark stuff we’ve been through?”

“She knows about pretty much everything,” he let his shoulders rise and fall quickly, hoping that Sam would just drop it, but he should have known his brother better as Sam gave him that “not buying it” expression. “Okay, she knows about Purgatory, about Amara, hell, she knows about the mark because they were all reason I stayed away.”

“Kinda had no choice when you were gone for a year in Purgatory.” Sam lifted the fork and stabbed it down into what remained of the honey mustard chicken salad in front of him. Dean flinched at the audible crunch the tortilla chips made, remembering the sound of bones breaking in that dark place.

“Yep, year’s a long time,” Dean scoffed, clearing his throat, “but she got it.”

“She got you being stuck in Hell Adjacent for a year with a vampire?” Dean shrugged again. “What exactly did you tell her? What did you say that would make her believe that was the reason you were gone?”

“I told her the truth,” Dean snapped, rubbing his hand over his forehead as he pushed away his plate with the other, “believe it or not, Sam, some people have no problem with the bullshit we deal with, and just because I can’t tell her everything doesn’t mean I lie to her.”

“So, it was ‘hey, I was stuck with Cas and Benny for a year, slaughtering my way through Leviathans’?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Pretty much.”

Sam looked at him like the man was insane, but he took in a deep breath and slowly sighed it out. “I thought I was weird the way she mentioned them the other day.”

“She’s pretty amazing,” Dean couldn’t keep that smile off his face even if he wanted to, which he didn’t, because hiding it would have caused Sam to dig deeper, as it was, it just made his shoulders relax. “I didn’t tell her about hell, though, those four months of being down below,” Dean paused, reached for a fry again, just needing to keep his fingers busy while he spilled his guts, again, “I couldn’t bring that darkness to her, lay it out like that. She just thought I was busy. It was the longest we’d been outta touch at that time. Four months was a cakewalk back then.”

“Now?”

Dean shook his head, “now I don’t know if I want to go home or stay here.”

“You said you told her about Amara, so does that mean you told her about…”

“Chuck?” Dean smirked, “yep, told her all about the God Almighty and his thoughts on how we were his favorites. She said she’d seen those damn books he wrote, thought they were the stupidest stories, not even well written.”

“How about fan fiction?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s seen that too, but you know what she said about that?” Dean shifted forward, like it was the biggest secret. “Everyone’s got their kinks.”

“Even the slash writers.”

“Why do you think I said you were her type,” Dean chuckled at the screwed look of confusion on his face. “Hey, she’s got this threesome fantasy,” he raised his hands as if to say it was out of his, and shrugged, “but to each his own.”

“You’re talking about a threesome with us together?” Sam rolled his eyes, as Dean continued to snicker at his discomfort. “Not funny, Dean.”

“I know, but you should see how red you are.” The older one flagged down the waitress and asked for a refill, “besides, I told her no way in hell.”

“How’d that go?” Sam lifted a forkful of the salad and stuffed it in his mouth.

“About as well as you’d expect,” Dean waggled his brows, “which is why I get all the action, and she hasn’t propositioned you yet.”

“She’s your girl, I’m okay with it.” Sam glanced up at the waitress as she dropped off the soda, blushed when she gave him a wink, but then turned in the seat to watch her walk away. Turning back to Dean, he noticed the way that his brother’s eyes were anywhere but on the backside of the woman. “All the bad stuff, all the crap deals we’d been handed, and she just took it and rolled with it?”

Dean crossed his arms, placing them on the table as he turned to look out the window beside him. He licked his lips, tugged at a stray thread on his shirt, and sighed, shifting in the chair. “When I got home from… when I released Benny and found you, I was pissed. The fact that you…” Dean cleared his throat, “you had a life while I was gone, you got out, that wasn’t what set me off, you know.”

“Could have fooled me,” Sam snarked, stabbing into the salad again.

“I know,” but he didn’t apologize, it wasn’t why he brought it up. That was a long time ago, or not so long but so many bullshit monsters and Gods ago that Dean had truly forgiven him. “I was pissed because she was alone, didn’t have a clue as to where I went, what happened. All I could think about was what if she was sitting up all night looking at her phone, waiting? What if she was crying? What if…” Dean cleared his throat and sighed, “what if she thought she would never see me again, what would she tell the kids?”

“Dean,” Sam’s tone was light, that master manipulator coming out again as he placed his hand on his brother’s lower arm, “I didn’t mean to bring it up, I was just curious,”

“It’s fine,” he sat back, letting that hand slip off, and blinked towards the ceiling. “It worked out, right?” He had to brush it off or the feelings would overwhelm him again and Dean just couldn’t deal with that right now, so change of subject. “When the Amara thing happened, it was different, I could still call, still text, but I told her I had to stay away.” Sam huffed, but a small smile played on his lips even as he shook his head. “Imagine finding out God had a sister and she was attached to you because of the mark that made you a serial killer not weeks before. I’m surprised she didn’t dump my ass.”

Sam wanted to agree, but kept his mouth shut on that, “what did she do?”

“Apparently, there aren’t a whole lot of priest in town or the surrounding areas that won't talk to her anymore without thinking she’s a quack job.” Dean shrugged, and that made Sam smile, because if she tore them down that much, she must have been asking the hard questions. “She knew the hold that Amara had over me, over my feelings, but she stood right there, talking me down most nights.”

“I don’t know why I never saw this whole thing,” Sam finally pushed the mutilated salad away and relaxed back on the seat. “There were so many signs. You hate the phone, unless there’s something going on and you need to reach out for information, like we used to do for Bobby, or Cas, so why didn’t I notice that you were on it so much.”

“Cause I’m awesome,” Dean winked and left it at that.

“Did you tell her about Jack? About Mom?”

“Oh, yeah she had her opinions on both.” He took the napkin from the table, ripping off little bits as he let the memories come back to him. “She really wants to meet Jack, even with all the shit we’ve been through with him, because she sees the good in everything.”

“And Mom?” Sam watched the smile fade from his face. “Dean?”

“Um, don’t,” he paused, looking up to meet his eyes, “don’t judge her, but she really wasn’t a fan.”

“Of our Mom?” Sam was a little confused, “she knows what happened right? How we lost her the first time, and then what happened after she came back?”

“Yeah, knows everything, but still isn’t about to wave the foam hand,” Dean sat straight, watching Sam tense up, ready for a lecture but Dean just raised his hand, getting him to still. “I’m not saying I agree, but I’m looking at both sides, Sam. Kens is a single mom, she’s set in the whole ‘you never leave your kids,’ and when Mom left to figure shit out, I swear it hurt her as much as it did me. She talked me down, helped pull me through losing her again, and she was an ear when I needed to rant and rave, but she never talked bad about her, she just wasn’t… she wished she could meet her and talk it through.”

“What good would that have done?” Sam snipped, his voice was tight, still on that edge.

“It would give Mom someone to talk to, another mother.”

“And you think that would have helped?”

Dean laughed, “not in the slightest, they’re too much alike.”

“So, it would have been like putting a flame next to gasoline?” Sam nodded, getting the whole deal, but he smiled instead thinking of the two of them going head to head. “What else did you tell her?”

“There’s not much I didn’t tell her, Sam, but I really don’t want to bring up every bad thing that we’ve ever done.” Dean reached for his wallet, turned the small kiosk machine towards him and stared at the screen, utterly confused for a moment before he set about pushing buttons. Sam didn’t bother to offer assistance; this was something Dean could handle on his own. “Why did they make this so impersonal? Would she even have come back to say, ‘can I get you pie’ or anything?”

“I don’t think they have pie; this is an ice cream company.” Sam looked around at all the décor, taking in the copious amounts of photo shopped pictures complete with overly large ice cream cones, or gigantic milkshakes. “I think it’s to make it more efficient for customers to get out and the next table to come in, frees up the waitress a little,” Sam understood the thoughts behind it, but Dean was so used to road side diners that were understaffed and under-tipped that he really didn’t get chain restaurants and their weird ways of getting more business. “Anyway,” he was about to slide out of the booth when he noticed Dean was still sitting there looking confused, “what are you doing?”

“All that,” he started, and waved his hand at the device, a pissed off scowl on his face, “and I still have to go up front because it doesn’t take cash.”

Sam tried to hide the smile as Dean tromped off in front of him, bitching all the way to the counter, and grumbled to the man behind it the whole time. He was polite though, he said everything courteously, commented on how great the waitress was, and responded the correct way to the ‘have a nice day’ that was hollered after them when they walked out the door, but the instant they hit the sidewalk, Dean was complaining again.

“What a waste of paper too.” He crumbled the receipt in his hand and tossed it on the floor by Sam’s feet, missing the small trash bag completely.

“What now?” Sam asked, getting settled in the seat as Dean cranked the engine over and pulled away from the curb-side parking spot that he managed to get for the car because there was no way he was getting it out of that small excuse for a parking lot without doing a fourteen-point turn.

“Check the gear, make sure we have the right stuff and head down to the dam,” Dean stared ahead, concentrating on the cars around him until they pulled up to the light, and then his gaze turned to Sam. “We’ll get it done and then figure out where to go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” But, it didn’t really sound like anything to Sam, just a generic brush off and he knew why. Once the monster was taken care of, Dean was going to have to make a decision, and Sam was not exactly thrilled to be part of that.


	9. Wish you were here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing down the demon is one thing, facing your greatest wish is another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch, sorry for this. BTW, I just finished writing it, so there was no second read through, no beta at all, so there are probably errors and stuff, but I have to go to the grocery store, and also, it's short. Enjoy

**Wish you were here**

The trip down to the bottom of the riverbed was the same as before, unimpeded by anything that might make them slip, but it doesn’t mean it was an easy descent. Sam had taken lead, Dean followed silently behind, looking for anything that might need to be shot, because that was just the mood he had fallen into. Sam was quiet, thoughts focused on the task of getting across the river without landing ass-first in the freezing water that was still cascading over the side of the wall. It wasn’t the trickle it had been, but it also was the full-force, white water flow that he had been expecting by this time.

The water level was beginning to rise with the amount of rain that had come down the last few days, but the gates hadn’t been opened yet to let off the pressure and keep the banks from flooding along the river, and that worried the younger one, hoping that they wouldn’t get caught in it on the way out. He stopped at the river’s edge, glanced once up, and then down to make sure he was at the right spot and then looked back at Dean.

“Don’t know if that bag is going to weigh you down, so be careful, these things look like they’re covered in slime.” Sam warned as Dean moved up beside him. He kept his voice low but leaned in to make sure Dean heard him over the sound of the rushing water. Dean hiked the bag higher on his shoulder, nodded, and waited for Sam to take that first step forward.

It wasn’t a cakewalk that’s for damn sure.

Sam slipped twice, nearly landing on his ass once, and face the second time. His legs were wet all the way up to his knees and his boots were shot. Dean made it across unscathed, a small satisfied grin on his face while watching Sam try to shake out the excess water from his sleeves.

“Not funny,” he grouched. The smirk slowly fell away from his brother’s face, only to return when Sam took a step forward and slipped on the mud. Dean’s quick reflexes had him by the elbow, making sure he didn’t land on his back, but at least he had the decency to keep in the comments that Sam knew he was holding back. “What’s our first move?”

Dean looked around, found a spot above the waterline to put the bag and unzipped it, handing Sam a shotgun, complete with strap, that he slipped over his shoulder, and a handful of shells. He then reached in and withdrew two angel blades, which quickly found their places in the loops that they had engineered for their belts, the blade slipped in up to the guard, caught and held at just the right angle that neither man would have any trouble grasping it quickly.

Sam tucked it away, along with the handful of shotgun shells that Dean handed him, and the both looked up, mildly annoyed as the skies opened up once again, bringing down a warm rain. Dean scowled, zipped the bag and tucked it in the bushes that hugged the rock wall where the opening was before he shouldered the rifle and clicked on his flashlight.

Stepping up to the hold in the side of the bank, Sam sighed. It was nearly a foot shorter than he was, which meant leaning over in order to keep from giving himself a concussion, but strategically, it wasn’t good. Maybe they could lure whatever it was out into the open, give him a real fighting chance, but his luck hadn’t work that way lately.

Dean moved further into the darkness, heard the footfalls of Sam behind him, and could tell by the how it echoed just how close he was, but it didn’t matter, whatever was at the end of this tunnel was something they hadn’t come up against before, and that bothered him more than anything. It’s not that he wanted to take more time… well, actually, it was. He wanted to forget this was even a thing, go up the bank, get in the car, and take off, maybe to parts unknown, but definitely with his family, all five of them tucked into the damn thing.

They took their time, one keeping the flashlight trained on the walls in front of them, one on the floor so they wouldn’t trip, but the whole tunnel had a strange design, everything was smooth. There weren’t any jutting rocks, no points above or below him, the walls to each side were rounded and the only thing he could think of was that he was in a train tunnel, on that stayed the shape of the opening all the way through, straight walls with a rounded arch top.

He reached out, let his fingers slide down the dark concrete and was instantly confused. Water was everywhere, right outside the door, trickling passed their feet, but the walls were dry. There was no hint of mold or mildew in the air, no slime coating the concrete and Dean stopped, glanced back over his shoulder at Sam, whose flashlight was sweeping the length of the tunnels, concentrated on exactly the same thing.

“Maybe it just doesn’t like its place dirty,” he shrugged, like it was the simplest thing ever.

“I mean,” Sam was still taking it all in, but he gave Dean that one-brow raise and a high shrug of his shoulders, “maybe?”

“Com’on,” he faced forward again, tried to get that small LED light to cover move area, to see further into the darkness, but that was a no go, no matter what he did. “Let’s kick this thing’s ass and go home.”

Sam didn’t reply, he didn’t have too, he just followed, which was good enough for Dean.

Stopping another fifty yards in, Dean pointed the light upwards, held his finger to his lip and listened, seeing Sam, uncomfortably hunched, roll his eyes. “Hear that?”

“No, Dean, I don’t hear anything but dripping water, what am I listening for?”

“Water,” his tone had a “duh” sound to it, as if Sam should have known exactly what he was talking about, but with the blank look on the younger one’s face, Dean was forced to explain. “We should be right under the pool, there should be something here leaking, or running. Everything has an undercurrent, right? Why aren’t we hearing any flowing water.”

Sam knew he was right but what did that change? Dean, frustrated, turned and moved on. It was another ten minutes of a completely straight line before the tunnel widened, giving the boys the relief of finally being able to stand up straighter, but what they came in on wasn’t exactly what they thought they would find.

Coffins littered the ground, broken open and scattered, the bones of those who were supposed to be in eternal rest were the same, some lying in mud puddles, buried deep enough that they only protruded from the ground in the way that most horror stories would be proud. Half a skull stared up at them, wide mouth with an empty scream as they entered. Dean sidestepped it but Sam nearly stepped _on_ it.

There was nothing else in the cavern, just empty, broken boxes, and bones. No other tunnels, no way out.

As Dean moved the flashlight across the length of the room, one thing was clear. “Where the hell are we?”

They were completely thrown off course.

They had gone straight, for what seemed like a lifetime, there were no curves, no corners, but somehow they had ended up underneath a cemetery. Sam stepped up to his brother, shined his light on the ceiling and scanned over the lack of roots. It didn’t make any sense.

“Not a clue.”

“You’re under the United Church,” a familiar female voice stated with a friendly tone, and both boys whipped around. She was thin, with black hair, styled out in back like a pixie cut gone wild and Dean instantly recognized her.

She was still dressed in the apron from the Crystal Springs Dairy Bar where they had breakfast the other day, but as she strode towards them, he watched as she morphed into the blonde that Liz had waved to at the Barnside Café. Sam grabbed his coat with a tight grip when in another few steps she was standing before him looking very much like the waitress they had just left at Friendly’s, the one that had winked and flirted.

“You looked surprised, boys,” her voice remained the same and Dean could have smacked himself for not noticing that fact beforehand, but there was too much time between the visits, and he hadn’t actually spoken to the girl at the café, just watched her for a moment. Sam released Dean, pulling the angel blade from the back of his jeans, a quick move that had the woman stepping back just a bit. “Well, I guess that’s all for the foreplay, huh? Straight to the point, then?”

“We’re here to send you back to hell,” Dean’s voice didn’t travel as far as he thought it would, even as he raised his chin, stood there looking confident as always, but she snorted at him.

“That’s a good one,” the woman shook her head, and began a leisurely pace back and forth in front of them. “You think you’re the first hunters to come in here looking for me, threatening to send me home?”

“No, but we’ll be the last.” Her replying smile was just the upward tilt of her lips, not sly, not smooth, just a way of saying “yeah, right” before she shrugged it off completely.

“You’re all the same, you know,” she casually continued moving by making her way around them. Sam stood with his front facing Dean’s left side, giving them every vantage point, but all she did was scan their bodies. “You walk in here, threaten to take me out, exorcise me back to my Father’s arm, and for what? Because I’m doing what I was created to do.”

“And what’s that? Reap souls?” Sam spoke up.

“I grant wishes, silly.” She smiled cutely, as if she were the most innocent thing alive, but that only aggravated Dean more. “People come to me, they _pray_ to me, call me to them in the hopes that I would bring them wealth beyond measure, from near and far.” She stopped, gingerly crossed her arms over her chest, like the world wasn’t coming to an end anytime soon, and raised a hand to tap her finger against her chin. “I don’t reap souls, Dean.” He stiffened at the sound of his name, “I take them because they forget their end of the bargain.”

“And what’s that?” Sam spoke up, two steps behind Dean, just off to the side, protected. He knew the answer, or as much of the lore as he could thanks to Kenzie and what Cas had told them, but he needed to hear it from her.

“To worship me, pray to me, pay me homage.” Her tone was more dramatic than anything he had seen yet, and Dean cringed at it. “It’s all I ask, all I’ve ever asked in the two hundred years I’ve serviced this area.”

“Why the water?” Dean was curious, and while he wasn’t sure where the question came from or fell into in this whole grand scheme of getting rid of her, he wasn’t opposed to finding it out either.

“Think of it like the life blood of the Earth,” she waved her hand casually in the are and began to pace once again, this time like she was thinking instead of getting a feel for her hunters. “This river alone connects to so many in the area. They’re like veins, flowing back to a bigger source, and I can follow all of them. They’re also wonderful conductors, and like the wind, water can carry a prayer with ease.” She came to an abrupt halt right in front of Sam. She looked up, locking his gaze, and Dean saw the moment she had him under her control. The fear faded from his shoulders, letting them relax, the fight eased out of his jaw, and his eyes went blank. “Sam,” Dean shook at the sweet, loving way she said his name, “Sam, tell me your most hidden wish, the one that you keep stored away, never hoping to voice it out loud.”

“What are you doing to him?” Dean’s voice echoed thought the cavern, as he tried to turn in his spot and move closer to Sam. “Sam! Snap out of it!” Her hands came up to his face, fingertips tracing the curve of his jaw. “Leave him alone or so help me…”

“You’ll what, Dean,” she sighed, as if she had heard it all before. She stepped back, releasing her hold on the younger brother, and Sam crumpled like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

“Sam?” Dean called out, but the blank look in his brother’s eyes was still there, and Sam hadn’t even flinched at the sound of his name. Bringing his eyes up to the woman in front of him, Dean sneered at her, hand going for the blade at the back of his jeans. “What did you do to him?”

“I listened,” she gave him a small shrug as she slipped up beside him, a motion so fluid that Dean never even saw her legs move, it’s like she flowed across the puddles on the ground. “I listened to all of the little wishes that he kept in his mind, trying to find the one thing that he wanted more than anything.”

“Yeah, and what did you find?” Dean wasn’t ready for this, he wasn’t ready. What if Sam wanted out, wanted to go home, live a normal life without him, not deal with all his shit? What if… what if Sam wanted to do it alone? What if Sam was keeping a secret as big as Dean’s.

“For now,” she taunted, “not a thing.”

The ongoing manic thought pattern in his head instantly stopped and Dean started at her in confusion. “What?”

“Sam’s happy, and all he’s ever wished for is for you to be happy too.” It seemed so simple, especially with the way she said it, but Dean knew there was a catch. “Seem you are, with your big secret out there in the open now.”

“You stay out of my head,” he growled low, fist clenched around the blade’s handle, but he couldn’t move to swing it.

“Oh, but Dean, you know who I am,” she snickered, “getting in your head is all I’ve ever wanted to do.” She drew him into her purple gaze, a color he hadn’t noticed before, and suddenly she was reaching out for him. “Tell me, Dean, what do you wish for the most, what do you want that you have yet to get. I can make it come true, all you have to do is tell me.”

Dean fought against the pull, building walls in his mind every time he felt her dig deeper, but it wouldn’t last, he knew it. He needed to do something, and while it was a long shot, it was also going to hurt like a bitch. He closed off the trained part of his mind, the one that worked on autopilot, that could do this whole ganking thing with his eyes closed, and he let her explore the parts of him that weren’t all that pretty.

While she was delving deep, he forced his arm out of it’s paralysis, turned the tip of the angel blade up and jabbed it quickly into her stomach.

The demon roared, quickly yanked from his thoughts, something that hurt him enough that he was on the floor panting out breaths to catch his heart, but when he looked up, she was standing there, angel blade in hand, with bright, glowing eyes.

“You are stronger than the last ones, aren’t you?” She huffed, looking down at the black goo that ran from the hole in her body. With a shaky hand, she touched the seeping liquid and brought it to eye level. “You hurt me.”

“That’s the plan,” Dean smirked, still trying to right himself. She scowled at him, angry enough to bare teeth and came at him.

“I don’t like pain,” she hissed, cupping his temples with his hand. For a little thing, she was unnaturally strong, and Dean found he couldn’t tear away. It was like he was shocked with a jolt of electricity when she pressed down against him, and somewhere in the distance, Dean heard a scream. “Show me, Dean, show me your most heartfelt wish.”

He could feel himself falling into the darkness, back into the memories, and while he thought of his dad, his mom, Jack, Cas… Sam, anyone that would lead him back to the beginning to wish this thing never happened, when he opened his eyes, he was sitting in a living room.

_He could feel the weight on his thigh, the press of a small body against his left peck, but his gaze was set to the woman at the stove, dressed in blue jeans and a black tee-shirt, obviously covered in flour. He could make out the hand prints low on the hem, and on the thigh of her jeans. He knew this memory, knew it well._

_He thought about how beautiful she was dressed in unremarkable clothes, dirty from a failed attempt to make pancakes on a blistery Sunday morning. He thought about how her hair swayed when she moved, having it tied up in a ponytail to keep it out of the batter, and probably her face because she had threatened to cut it off several times already that week. He took in the curves of her, the way the shirt fit and he realized it was his, she was wearing his tee-shirt, before moving on to the curve of her hips, the round way her ass moved when she shifted back and forth, scooping, pouring, then flipping the items in the pan. He was lost in the memory, the thoughts of how he wished he could keep her just like that, until the press of a small hand came up on his cheek._

_Tiny fingers dug in as that hand pulled at him, cupping around his jaw and he slowly turned, bringing his gaze down to the bright blue eyes that stared up at him, just like Sam used to do, annoyed that she was being ignored, furious that he hadn’t been listening, and when he heard her speak, he knew he was in trouble._

_“Unca’De,” she snapped, like a mini-Kenzie, wanting nothing but his undivided attention as she sat on his lap, hardcover book open to some hand drawn picture of a knight on a horse and he remembered what he had been reading. King Arthur and his quest for the Holy Grail, not exactly the same book he had read to Sam, but the same tale. He smiled at her, took her hand from his face and kiss the back of it gently. “Unca’De,” she tapped the book, “tur’da page.”_

Dean was snapped out of it at those words, brought right back to the cavern and he drew in a deep breath. He was kneeling on the wet ground, eyes focused on the fact that the demon now stood a few feet away, but she wasn’t alone. Sam groaned beside him but he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman with the blade against her throat.

“See, I knew you would give it up,” she cooed, batting her eyes as if standing there with Kenzie locked against her, knife against her jugular was the most normal thing in the world.

“No!” Dean begged, “don’t hurt her, please.”

“You don’t really understand the nature of the beast, do you, Dean,” she sighed, pulling Kenzie tighter, “you tell me your wish, I grant it, bring you wealth beyond measure, but wealth isn’t always money. Sometimes, it’s love, sometimes… it’s family.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Dean forced himself up, tucking one foot under him as he pushed against the force that held him there.

“You disrespected me,” she rolled her eyes, focusing on him. “I brought those people what they asked for, I was doing what I was made to do, and you took that away from me.” She was like a child, coming back at him for no good reason. Dean hadn’t done a thing, this was the first time they’d met, the first interaction. “You really think that?”

“Get the fuck out of my head!” He managed to get to his feet, though the weight of the link they still shared would have put him down again in an instant if he pushed. “What did we do? Huh? What did we do to you?”

She twisted the blade in her hand, bringing it up away from the skin, angling it just right and Dean’s heart thumped in his chest.

“You took away my followers, my prayers, my power,” she explained. That didn’t make any sense, they hadn’t done anything except kill off a coven of witches set to destroy half a town. And then Dean got it, he understood it. “Yes, you can see it now, they were mine.” He shook his head, unsure of what she wanted from him, what she wanted him to do to remedy it. He was utterly confused. “There’s only one thing you can do.” That blade twisted, the point found it’s target and sailed home, right between the fourth and fifth rib, and Kenzie choked. “You can give up your wish.”

“NO!” Dean screamed, feeling his heart break as Kenzie looked down at the handle of the blade that protruded from her chest.

Dean felt the weight of the demon’s power force him down to his knees again as he watched with blurring vision while Sam moved up behind the monster, yanked the demon blade out of his coat and shoved it deep into the heart of the woman before him. Kenzie collapsed, her eyes wide, but unseeing, even as Dean reached out for her, and while he saw his finger stretch in that direction, the edges of his vision grew darker, until the world tilted on its axis and blackness closed in.


	10. Turn the page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's haunting Dean, like a secret from his past, and what the hell is it with that damn song? He's got to figure it out before those lyrics drive him insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look at that, one more chapter. It took a while because... you know, life happens and stuff. Enjoy. 
> 
> Side note: I just went through this chapter before going on in my docs and I realize how badly edited it is. So, please forgive my sudden lack of the letter T, that seems to be the running trend.

**Turn the page**

_Three months later…_

_Dean._ The word was whispered breathlessly in his ear, his eyes screwed so tightly shut just to keep the feeling that he was terrified he wouldn’t be able to see when he found the strength to open them, but he could hear her, _feel_ her. The way she encased him was warm, wet, and damn near perfect and he wanted to keep it, to lock it down and never let it go. _Dean._

The heat coiled low, his balls tightened as the skin prickled, and his body sang with the electric pulse of being just so close. She moved, grinding down hard, slipping up fast, but oh, so perfect that he couldn’t hold on. The feeling of fingers digging into his chest, the pain of that familiarity sent him off, splashing hot, sticky fluid against his stomach as he tilted his head back against the pillow, clenched his jaw and let the feeling of it take over.

_Dean._

And that time, his eyes flew open. He sat up, panting, looking around his bedroom, the only light that broke the darkness was the one that flowed in from the vents at the bottom of the door. There was nothing, not a sound, or at least not anything but the normal sounds of the air flowing around the bunker. Even Sam and his obsessive researching in the library had gone still. The kid had picked an off-topic three months ago and hadn’t let it go, he hadn’t found any information on it either, which worried Dean the most.

He moved his hands up to run over his face, and stopped, eyes focused on the cool, tacky feeling of his right hand before it made it to his skin. He shivered at the thought of almost giving himself a… he shook off the image, didn’t want to think about that and quickly stood, making his way over to the sink in the corner of the room.

He turned on the hot, then twisted on the cold as well. It always took longer for the furnace to kick in this early in the day… night, Dean turned and looked at the clock on the nightstand, it’s glowing red numbers stared back at him. Four in the morning, not bad, that meant he got six hours in, but it was still morning.

He yanked his stiffening tee-shirt from his body, balled it up and tossed it in the hamper in the corner, then dropped out of his boxers before washing his hands. There was just something about touching the clothes to remove them after he had cleaned them that made no sense to him, but waiting until he hit the shower wasn’t going to do well either. He just wasn’t going to be able to walk through the house with cum crusting on him, let alone carry them back after he was done. He yanked the washcloth from the hanger, warmed it under the water and did a quick swipe to his stomach, removing anything that happened to be there as well before he slipped on the gray robe that Sam hated so much.

Grabbing a clean towel from the rack, and yes, Dean had his own towels in his own room, he turned to leave before spinning back to turn off the taps. When he looked up, he saw her. She stood in the doorway to his room, dishtowel in hand, drying hers, with a smirk on her face as she scanned over his body before she stepped away, disappearing.

Dean, beyond confused, quickly followed, stopping dead in the middle of the hallway, looking both ways because that was exactly what anyone who had seen a ghost would do. But that wasn’t right, there were no cold spots, not bad feelings, no _signs_ that this was a ghost at all, also, who was she?

He made his way towards the bathroom, mind running on autopilot as he showered, shaved, and got ready for the day but he couldn’t forget the dream, or the vision in his room, because he was not convinced that that was not a ghost.

The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, he had to brace himself against the sound that echoed through the hallways. That song! That God-forsaken, irritating song! It had been haunting him for three months now, no matter where he went, what he did, what radio station he turned on, it was there, and now apparently it was Sam’s alarm.

“Son of a bitch!” He grumbled, through clenched teeth, and while he wanted to scream it, he kept it low and under his breath.

Dean stalked down the hallway towards his brother’s room. He loved Seger as much as the next person but, man, this was getting to be a little too much. He stopped in front of Sam’s door, pressed his ear to the wood and listened. It _wasn’t_ coming from Sam’s room, everything behind the door was silent, but the closer he listened, the more he followed it out into the library.

When he stepped through the opening into the war room, Dean stopped. Cas stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up into the space that held the tables and Sam’s assorted collection of books, all moved from one archive room or another to be put in a place of honor, or where Sam didn’t have to go digging for them. Dean approached cautiously, the sound of the lyrics flowing down from somewhere in the upper part of the large room.

“Cas?” He watched the angel’s head, tilt slightly, noticed the way that his blue eyes narrowed on the space. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” slowly, Cas turned his head to look at him, “I was doing my usual rounds, and the record player just started.”

“On this song?” Dean wasn’t buying it, there was something Cas wasn’t telling him, even though his eyes screamed uncertainty. He moved, headed towards the stairs, not that he had anything to use as a weapon, but this was his home, they were stashed everywhere. Cas caught his arm in a gentle squeeze.

“There’s something else.”

He froze at those words, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“ _And you feel the eyes upon you as you're shakin' off the cold. You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode.”_ Those lyrics had Dean’s green eyes wide open again, scanning the area. That was too close to the truth, and he felt the slight chill in the air.

“There’s a presence in the building.”

“Ya think?” Dean snipped, unamused, but this just trumped everything he was feeling because that meant she had to be real in some aspect. The look of irritation on Cas’s face told him that he had struck a nerve. “Sorry, man, it’s been a long morning.”

“You’ve been awake for a little over thirty minutes,” the angel’s attempt at humor wasn’t missed but Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Like I said,” he patted Cas on the chest, “long morning.” The two of them moved up the steps, deliberately slow, and moved through the room, Cas on one side, Dean on the other, but closest to the player. He stopped, gently reached out and lifted the tonearm, cringing at the scratch of the stylus on the vinyl. He’d never forgive himself if that left a mark. Silence filled the room when he switched off the turntable and both men stood there as still as they could. After a moment of scanning the room, Dean let out a breath, and admitted to the vision earlier. “I saw someone.”

“So, there is an intruder?” Cas nodded, looking around the room, like he was trying to pinpoint some sort of energy in the air. “That explains somethings.”

“Like what? It’s literally been ‘thirty minutes’,” Cas rolled his eyes as Dean lowered his arms after air quoting the angel, “what exactly does that explain?”

“If that song is any indication, I believe you’re being haunted.” 

Dean blinked back the sudden drowsy feeling, ran a hand over his face, and placed both on his hip. With a huff, he shook his head. “I need coffee.”

“That might be a good idea,” Cas agreed and the two of them made their way down into the kitchen.

Dean fiddled with the pot, irritated that it was set on a timer and he still hadn’t gotten the hang of shutting that part off without it popping back on at six. The gurgling noise of an empty pot that early in the morning was one of Dean’s pet peeves, he hated it and it made his skin crawl. Cas sat down on the stool closest to the end of the wooden table, observing quietly, at least until Dean plunked down across from him.

“Say whatcha gotta say, Cas, I’m too tired for games,” Dean’s words were mumbled beneath his hands as he scrubbed them over his face, thankful that he had taken the time to shave that morning, not that he wouldn’t have a shadow by noon, but hey, smooth skin for a few hours was better than never.

“The song. I’ve noticed the trend in the amount of times that it plays while you’re in the room,” he started, eyes following Dean who was suddenly up and headed towards the pot. Cas’s eyes locked on his hands, pouring the black liquid into two mugs before he moved to set one down in front of the angel. “It never happens when Sam is alone, only you.”

“So, what happened this morning?” Dean took a long sip of his coffee before resting his eyes on Cas. “You were the one in the library.”

“But it only started when you finished in the bathroom,” Cas grabbed the sugar container and pulled it closer, pouring just a little into his mug before he slipped the spoon from the side of the jar and stirred. “I heard the door open; it was why I stopped where I did. I thought I would make this, but then the player started going, and I felt… something.”

“Like a vibration in the air?” Dean’s question got the exact reaction from the angel that he was hoping for. Oh, good, he wasn’t going nuts. “I’ve been feeling that a lot.” Dean took his eyes off the man across from him, bit down on his lower lip and debated, just for a short time before he huffed out his next words. “I saw something… someone earlier, and I can’t place her, but she’s,” how the hell do you explain to someone when you don’t even get it yourself. Dean went with the simplest words he could, “familiar.”

“I believe she might be someone you know, or knew,” Cas reassured him, but Dean just shook his head.

“I’m being haunted by someone I know?” That whole statement was just wrong. “You mean she’s not dead?”

“Of that, I’m not sure. While it, or she, can definitely manifest and move things around, I can’t be sure if it’s because of spiritual energy or force of will.” Cas rubbed his hand across his forehead, “Dean, this could be dangerous.”

“I don’t think she is,” he admitted, giving the kitchen a quick sweep before he focused on the cup in front of him. “She’s been in my dreams too, like vivid dreams.”

“How vivid?” Cas’s expression filled with concern while Dean just grinned. “Oh,” he cleared his throat, “I see.”

“Yeah, well, whoever she is, I think we need to find her.” Dean let out a long breath, letting all of the tension run from his body, just in time to look up and see Sam step into the doorway. His hair was sticking out in a million different directions, bed clothes were wrinkled from sleep and his eyes still held that half-awake glare. “Heya, Sammy.”

“What’s with the music at four in the morning?” The younger man growled, and Dean refused to see the irony of the fact that the morning person was bitchy. Dean glanced at Cas, who only gave the look right back before Dean cleared his throat. “Seriously,” Sam scolded as he sat down to Cas’s right, “I was up half the night looking into this latest case and you’re playing Seger at four in the morning.” Dean rolled his shoulders at the tone of voice, closed his eyes, and tried to brush it off. “And what’s with you and that song?”

“Look,” he finally made eye contact with him, “I have no idea, but it wasn’t me and it wasn’t Cas, so quite your whiny-girl bitching and drink your coffee,” he stood and glanced between them, “I’m going to find something to make for breakfast.”

The day moved on from there, with Cas trying to find something, anything on what this haunting might be other than a ghost because nothing pointed in that direction. Dean spent most of his time down in the garage, changing the timing chain on the Impala. It had started to slip the week before and he wasn’t going to chance it on a longer road trip, while Sam dove right back into the lore he had been working on the night before.

He was under the hood, the headers for the engine sat on the counter beside the car, the gaskets had been torn off, something that he was happy he had extra of, and the rest of the gears were now off. He had inspected the chain, and while nothing seemed wrong with it, he was replacing it anyway. The odometer had flipped over at some point and stopped reading. Dean would have guessed that there was somewhere in the range of two-hundred thousand miles or more on this baby, and the last time he had to change the chain was… he didn’t remember, so it was time.

The radio inside the car clicked on, and the sound of static had him slowly standing up. There was no way that thing should have been on, the battery had been disconnected two hours ago. Slowly, he made his way around the fender, wrench in hand, and glanced around before he leaned into the compartment. The first notes from the saxophone played low over the speaker to his left, from the door, before it was joined by the ones on the dash.

_“On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha, you can listen to the engine, moanin' out his one note song. You can think about the woman, or the girl you knew the night before…”_

The pain hit him hard enough to send him to the floor, one open palm pressed against his temple, one stretched out groping for the bench seat in front of him, looking for anything to balance him. His head flashed with memories. A bar, not like most of the gritty dive bars that he usually strolled into, but one that was attached to some halfway decent hotel.

_The scene before him was a woman, out of place and uncomfortable, sitting at one of the furthest stools, a White Russian hidden in her fingers, like it was a life raft and she was in the middle of the decision to sink or swim. His heartbeat slowed as he stood, eyes narrowed on the well-dressed asshole that was pressing too close, a cruel, predatory smile on his face. She shook her head, Dean had seen her do it three other times so far but the man didn’t get the hint, hadn’t gotten a clue, or truthfully, didn’t care._

_He stood, felt his legs below him, carrying him to that side of the bar, away from the little corner he had tucked himself away in. He had just finished a case, wanted something quiet, it was the only reason he ventured into the place, it was because he knew he wouldn’t get hit on, these people were here for a different reason than a hook-up, but Dean couldn’t stand by and watch this happen._

_He was suddenly beside her, green eyes locked on the stalker, on her demon, and Dean leaned down. The first touch of his lips against her cheek, as light as it was and totally for show, sent a surge of heat through his body, not like the electric zing of finding someone that would be a great lay for at least one night, but a heat, something indescribably familiar._

_“Hey, honey,” he whispered softly in her ear, eyes still locked on the man, but he felt her stiffen as he placed his hand solidly on her shoulder, “your mom says the kids are doing great.” Dean sifted into the chair beside her, waited for the unease to release from her shoulders and she looked at him quickly, a quiet plea in her eyes. “Who’s your friend?”_

_“Um, this is… Brad?” His name was said with uncertainty, which guaranteed that she had no intention of taking him anywhere and Dean straightened up, extending his hand. He had slipped his mom’s ring, the one that John has discarded to his care years ago, to his left ring finger, simulating a wedding band, one that mimicked her small silver one. “He’s a co-worker, sorta.”_

_“Nice to meet you, Sorta Brad,” Dean’s voice was low, almost threatening, but pleasant, “name’s Dean, don’t know if she mentioned me, you know… her husband.”_

_Brad did a double take, looked directly at the woman’s hand and gave a nervous smile. “Yeah, she did, nice to meet you.”_

_Brad shook his hand quickly, not even in a formal way, and then disappeared faster than a ghost. Every muscle in her body relaxed, Dean felt it through the connection still on her shoulder and slowly he sat down again._

_“You okay?” It was deliberately soft, trying to get her to unclench the glass before she broke it, and with a deep breath in, he watched the color come back to her knuckles._

_“Yes,” one breath, “thank you,” two breaths, “I, ah, don’t usually come to bars,” three breaths and her hands released it, and in turn, Dean slipped his away from her. The woman turned, her bright eyes landing on his and Dean’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Thank you, Dean.”_

_“My pleasure,” he nodded, cleared his throat and stood, ready to make his way back to his corner, but the sudden feeling of her fingers against his wrist, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the bar, had him pause. The look in her eyes told him everything. “Still afraid he’s going to come back?”_

_“He’s been pretty much relentless for the last year,” she glanced towards the entrance of the bar, something he followed with his eyes, and spotted Brad hovering over two other women. “Sorry,” her apology was just a whisper, “but thank you for that.”_

_“No worries,” he grinned, trying to make it seem as natural as he could, but he slowly sank down on the stool again, “so,” he tilted his head, caught up in her eyes again, “you know my name, what’s yours?”_

_“Not going to try and hit on me are you?” She smiled, a real, genuine grin that let him relax further, and she lifted her left hand to wiggle her fingers, “because I really am married.”_

_Dean held his hands up in surrender, “nah, just here to help.”_

_“Okay,” her face flushed, and Dean thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, enough to take his breath away if only for a moment. “Then, my name’s Kenzie.”_

Dean opened his eyes wide, unaware that he had fallen onto his ass, back against the interior of the driver’s side door. He breathed in deeply, like he had been deprived of oxygen for a while, and looked around, trying to get his bearings.

“Sam,” his voice was hoarse, and there was honestly no way Sam would be able to hear him even if he screamed bloody murder, at least not all the way up in the garage, he’d have to sound an alarm. Dean stood on shaking legs, hoping at least he could stay upright.

Dean stumbled through the door, hands gripping the railing in order to not flip over it, but the room was spinning, his vision wouldn’t clear from the vertigo the memory -and it was a memory- had set in. Things had sprung up, mostly conversations, as he fought his way out of the garage… towards Sam, to Cas, but there was no way he was making it down the stairs without falling and breaking his neck.

His brother was in the library, standing just beyond the first chair where Dean could make out the cuff of his jeans and those gaudy brown, slip-on boots he loved to wear. Knowing Sam was close, Dean let himself rest, sliding down against the iron rails to sit on the tile floor, but he pressed his cheeks against the cool of the metal, face turned towards him.

“Sam.” The name probably wasn’t loud enough to catch his attention that time either, and it wasn’t Sam that noticed him.

Cas stepped up from the kitchen, two cups of coffee in hand and happened to look up at the balcony, something he had always done, as if to check that the door was still locked. He came to a stop when he saw Dean, gently set the cups down on the table and made his way over to the bottom step.

“Dean?” The deep tenor of his voice made Dean visibly shake, bringing with it the recall of those first saxophone notes. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the song while focusing on the harsh hands that shifted him. Cas turned him, braced him against the rail and patted Dean not so nicely on the cheek, trying to bring him back. “Tell me what happened.”

“The song,” his words were barely a whisper, and he had to force them out, like he was on the edge of sleep and fighting. “The words… brought memories.” Dean sat up, eyes wide suddenly and shifted, hands going right to Cas’s trench coat, twisting the material in his fists to bring the man closer. “I know who she is, Cas, I have to get to her.”

“What’s gong on?” Sam’s voice sung over him, and while Dean could see him out of his peripheral vision, he didn’t take his focus from Cas. “Dean, what’s…”

“It seems Dean knows who’s haunting him,” Cas spoke up, not shifting an inch from where he crouched.

Sam looked utterly confused, but he shook his head, stood and reached a hand down for his brother. “All right,” his sigh came out through his nose, like he wanted to demand more answers, “let’s go find her… him… whatever.”

“No,” he looked up this time, finally locking stares with Sam, giving only the gentlest shake of his head. The tone of the word and the action contradicted itself. Dean sounded fierce, like he needed Sam to leave it alone, but the gesture begged for him to hear him out first. “I know,” those two words were shaky, uncertain, “I know where she is.”

“Well, she’s got to be here, right? So, let’s figure out how a spirit got in the bunker,” Sam turned to head down the stairs, wanting to get on this as fast as possible because that song was driving him just as mad. The shift from sitting to standing almost had Dean flat on his ass with the way the room blurred to black but he steadied himself on the rail, holding on to Cas for a second before he reached out for Sam. The younger one, frustrated with lack of communication, and not realizing the physical state Dean was in, stalled at the touch of his brother’s hand. “Okay, Dean, explain.”

“She’s not a spirit, like Cas said, she’s not dead, and I don’t think she’s doing this.” All of it at one time had Sam raising a brow. “I think it’s me.”

“Oh, sure. You suddenly developed powers to turn on a radio, a record player, and whatever other electronic device to play one song, repetitively, on repeat.” Sam snapped.

“You just…” Cas spoke up and Sam glared at him pointedly.

“I know what I said,” was the snipped reply. “Dean, what’s going on?”

“Help me downstairs, all right, and I’ll try to explain.” The fact that Dean had asked for anything had the fight deflating out of Sam so fast his whole body sagged before he nodded and wrapped Dean’s arm around his shoulder.

It took a bit for the three men to maneuver down the stairs, but they managed and soon had Dean situated in one of the map table chairs. Cas brought over a fresh cup of coffee, but Dean seemed to turn green at the smell, to the point where it was quickly removed. Sam sat down slowly, taking in the paling complexion of his brother as Dean stared at the table. It took a moment, and Cas sitting down, bumping the chair against the edge for Dean to be shocked back to reality.

“You said you knew where she was, how?” Sam watched Dean blink at him, take in a breath and sigh.

“I’ve known for years,” he admitted quietly and was suddenly sucked into a memory, one of them in the car, driving down a back road and all the secrets he held in pouring from his lips. His eyes focused on his brother, confused and annoyed before his brows creased in anger. “I told you all of this.”

“Dean,” Sam scoffed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Kenzie,” he sat up quickly, “I told you all about Kenzie months ago.”

“Ah, no… you didn’t.” Worry spread in Sam’s eyes as he turned towards Cas. “What’s he talking about?”

“Dean, what do you remember?” Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, “besides the girl, I mean.”

“Some case in Massachusetts…”

“Witches?” Sam sounded excited at that but Dean only clenched his fists.

“No, _Sam_ … not witches, a demon or something.” He was still trying to get the fuzzy feelings out of his own brain, how was he supposed to explain this? “We were coming back, and I needed to see her…”

“Kenzie?”

Dean scowled at the interruption, focusing his stern gaze right on his brother as he continued. “I introduced you to her, and we spent a few days hanging out, but there was this thing…” he fought to find the word he was looking for, a name that was hanging in the gray area of his thoughts, until it suddenly slipped forward, “Clauneck.”

“A demon.” Cas clarified and Dean sat straight up.

“Yes,” he pointed a finger at Cas, not to be rude but reiterating that he had hit it right on the nose. “Yes, a demon… a wish demon.”

“A djinn?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “no, an actual demon. She… it… did…” Dean couldn’t quite get that picture either, like it was just hovering outside his grasp, but he took a moment to catch his breath, “it did something to her, to us.”

“Okay,” Sam sat back, gathered his thoughts and rubbed his hand over his forehead, lost in thought, “so, do you want to go back? I mean, do you need to?”

Dean stumbled a bit, not sure if he wanted to go alone in case she wasn’t real, or if he wanted to take Sam with him because, memories be damned, there was something about the very thought of her that sent him on one hell of a protective streak.

“I guess?” He wasn’t sure of it himself but after a moment, he nodded. He brought his eyes up slowly, having been locked too long on South Africa, and met Sam’s. Taking in a deep breath, he finally admitted to himself that the way his heart raced at the thought of seeing her, hoping to God she was real, was a need that he couldn’t ignore, and he nodded. “Yeah, I gotta go.”

“Fine,” it was instant, there wasn’t any pause between Dean’s admission and Sam’s acceptation. “Let’s go pack.”

Dean rose, then froze, his eyes once again on the light green continent. “Shit!”

“What?” Sam spun around so fast he had to grip the table to stop from falling on top of it. “What happened?”

“The timing chain is still fucked,” Dean sighed and ran both hands up through his hair, bringing them down to crash, fists clenched on the table. He was frustrated, flustered, and taking two seconds, he closed his eyes and calmed himself, raising a hand to stop the motion of Sam trying to round the table. “Sorry,” he spoke softly, which halted the movements towards him, “I’m… It won’t take two hours tops to put it together,” Dean caught his gaze, “I swear.”

“Take your time, and make sure you do it right,” Sam scolded, like Dean would ever _not_ take the time to make sure his baby was in prime condition to take on that kind of trip. He wanted to scowl at Sam, give him hell for thinking Dean would be in anyway negligent with the car, or Sam’s safety but he understood that his younger brother was only watching out for him.

Dean rolled his eyes, “it will be done, go pack.” Sam smirked, pivoted and headed towards the hallway that lead towards the bedrooms. “Sam!” He turned, brows raised, “pack the gun bag while you’re at it.”

“Sure,” he agreed but it was so full of snark it almost came out as a nice way of telling Dean to fuck off, and he disappeared around the corner.


	11. Living inside my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Sam's got some secrets of his own, and Dean's memories keep coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely how I intended this to come out, in fact, this was all them. Writers have very little control over what their (not mine but Kripke's) characters reveal, or so it seems. Enjoy, can't promise how much more this is going to go. It's been slow and dragging to put to paper lately. Let me know what you think. Comments are always welcomed.

**Living inside my heart**

The repair had taken two hours, just like Dean had promised, and before his mind could wander back to the strange memories that suddenly started to fill it, the boys were on the road again, headed east along Route 36, towards Illinois. They had been on the road for nearly six hours already, just about to cross the bridge in Hannibal when Dean pulled off to fill the tank.

Sam had gotten out to use the bathroom and refill the much needed travel mugs, the one thing in the car that Dean hated, since he swore that there was a metallic taste to the liquid after a little while of sitting, but he still kept taking what Sam offered, so it was probably just a matter of pride.

Dean stared off into the distance, eyes focused on nothing before he heard the light giggle behind him. He was standing at the kitchen sink, a scouring pad in one hand and a very burnt pot in the other, when he turned to look at the woman in the doorway, a two-year-old girl on her hip.

_“I didn’t know you could burn water,” he shrugged and smiled as she stepped forward, the little one half asleep in her arms. Dean dried off his hands and reached for her, taking her gently from her mother’s arms. Issy curled up against Dean, placing her face right in the curve of his neck. She smelled like Johnson and Johnson, her hair was slightly damp and there was a hint of baby powder on her skin._

_“She’s still sick, so be careful, I can’t guarantee that she won’t throw up on you,” Kenzie slipped up to the sink, grabbed the pan, and let the hot water fill it before she grabbed a small packet of laundry soap… yes,_ laundry soap _, from under the counter, something she found worked really well on stuck-on stuff._

_“Wouldn’t be the first time she’s puked on me, and trust me, I’ve had my share of spit up with Sammy,” Dean leaned forward and kissed Kenzie gently on the side of the head. “Want me to put her to bed?”_

_“She’s not going to let you put her down anywhere now that she’s got you wrapped around her finger,” Kenzie laughed, and just to prove her point, Issy whined and pulled on his shirt, trying to get closer. “It’s frustrating to have to wait for them to say what it is.”_

_“I know,” he reached out, rubbing the back of his knuckles down her spine, “but if they have to wait for a bulls-eye to show up, that’s what they got to do.”_

_“But what kind of damage is it going to cause waiting this long, Dean?” She dropped the pad in the sink and turned to him, rubbing a wet hand on her forehead. “She’s our little girl, and I can’t stand to see her in so much pain. She’s sick all the time, and she’s two! How can she tell me when her head hurts, when her muscles are cramping up?”_

_“Hey,” he sifted the toddler onto his hip, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Lyme isn’t the end of everything and you’re doing great, even if you’re spoiling her, it’s for a reason. Trust me, Kens, if I could call down angels to heal her, I would.”_

_She tipped her head back, wet with tears and waited for Dean to lean down, for him to kiss her gently, and he did, he would never deny her that. With a small sigh, she closed her eyes, and rested her head against his chest. “Thank you.”_

_“Anything for you,” was all he replied._

“Dean?” Sam’s voice interrupted, shaking him from the memory and Dean whipped his head in his direction.

“Yeah?” The pump had been off for ages, there was an old guy in a Rav 4 staring him down, and Dean kicked himself into gear to get away from the pumps as Sam slipped into the car.

They stopped for the night in Brookville, Ohio, about twelve hours from home. It would be another full twelve on the road tomorrow and while Dean could have kept going on any regular day, sixteen hours wasn’t in the cards. The small motel they camped at… some unknown, unremarkable place was just a pit stop for sleep.

Sam had tried to question him, wanted to know more about this woman that Dean needed to see, but the older one just couldn’t bring himself to open up about her yet, not again, so they gone to bed quiet, no shared feelings or big epiphanies. Dean’s secret remained just that, and in the wee hours of the morning, when the sun was just thinking of peeking through, he woke to the strange cries in the night.

Shifting out of bed, he glanced behind him at Sam’s sleeping form taking up as much room as he could on the second bed, and slowly made his way to the door in just the jeans he had managed to slip on and the black tee that he always wore. When he opened the door, he stepped into the light of the sun, and down the wooden steps into Kenzie’s backyard.

_“It’s just a bee sting,” she whispered to Daniel, who wiped the tears from his face._

_“Just a bee sting,” the boy replied, his face slowly registering the whole concept. Everything to him was ten times more dramatic than anyone else, it always hit him harder until he had a logical explanation to it, but the sudden grin on his face when he looked up at Dean from over his mother’s shoulder almost made Dean laugh. “Hey, Uncle Dean, I got stung by a bee.”_

_“That’s… great?” Dean seemed more confused at the whole concept of not coddling the boy because, damn did bee stings hurt, but the wink he received from Kenzie told him he had said the right thing. “We’re not going to have to chop it off, are we?”_

_“Mom said if it swelled up, we could have ice cream on it,” and Dean was pretty positive that was_ not _what she meant._

_“Sure, kid, mom knows best, right?” Daniel hopped up, grabbed what looked like a make-shift sword and headed back across the lawn, right to where his brother and their closest friend stood, ready and waiting. Kenzie stood and made her way over, going up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek as Dean stood in awe over the kid’s ability to get over anything just like that. “Ice cream? For a bee sting?”_

_“For what it’s worth,” she smirked, “I did say we could put ice cream on it.”_

_“Ew, gross,” Dean wrapped a hand around her waist, “no thank you, but I could think of a few other places we can put it.”_

_“Oh, yeah, how long did Sam give you this time?”_

_“Um, Sammy’s and I aren’t hunting together right now,” he sighed, and knew it was coming when Kenzie rolled her eyes. “It’s a long story, but we kinda both agreed that it was best.”_

_“You’re setting yourself up for failure, Winchester,” she patted him on the stomach. “Your little angel buddy isn’t the end-all, be-all of answers.” She stepped back and headed for the porch door, “you’re going to need your brother.”_

_“I know,” he sighed, glancing at the boys one more time, “trust me, I know.”_

Dean looked at the rain just outside the door, closed his eyes and moved back into the building. Sam hadn’t shifted from his sleep, the night wore on, and Dean was happy that when he hit the pillow this time, no memories haunted his dreams.

It didn’t take long for the morning to start of on this side of a metric ton of bullshit. Sam woke up with a migraine, though there weren’t any signs of it the night before, so it made him ten times more grouchy and irritating than normal, which put Dean in his own bad mood, but what set it off was the fact that no matter what they did, things kept going wrong.

The waitress at the small dive diner they stopped at for breakfast managed to spill an entire carafe of coffee all over the table, which included some papers that Sam had spread out and was trying to look at through the haze of his headache. She managed to clean it up and avoid it going right onto Dean’s lap, but the papers were now covered in brown stains and Sam’s bad mood ramped up to pissed off. Their plates were cold after that and the order was wrong when it was brought back, courtesy of the waitress.

They managed to stuff most of it down their gullets before giving up and heading back out on the road, but the tha-thump of a flat tire not an hour down the road had Dean swearing at the top of his lungs. As he changed it to the full-sized spare, the side of the car was splashed by mud from a passing truck, one that was probably going a bit faster than it really should have, but the good note was… it missed Dean, the bad note, it covered the side of the Impala so thicky that Dean was trying to wipe it off with a towel in order to see.

Once they were finally back on the road, things seemed to even out. Sam fell asleep, which meant his headache should turn itself around. Luck seemed to be slowly ebbing back into the car, and their lives as they passed through Ohio and made their way into Pennsylvania.

Dean’s thoughts faded back to Kenzie, to a time that he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember, and what he saw before him was her front door. He closed his eyes, felt the tears welling up and finally reached out, turning the knob. Her car was in the drive, there was music coming from inside, and while it should have worried him that the door was unlocked, it also made the transition through it so much easier.

_He didn’t want to knock, didn’t think he could bring himself to do that and then wait, so he stood there, the door closed behind him, and waited. Kenzie stepped down the last stair, load of laundry in her hands and stopped dead, staring at him before she dropped the basket, kicked it out of the way and moved towards him, arms open._

_Dean took whatever he could get, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, fingers in his hair as he pressed his cheek against her head, and closed his eyes. She smelled like sweet pea and Jasmine, like a field of flowers and her warmth was familiar, calming… home. His knees gave out as he held on, a sob wrenched from his chest and Kenzie moved down with him, trying everything just to keep him in her arms._

_“Shh,” she sighed, hand coming up to cup his cheek as she peppered kisses on his skin. “It’s going to be all right, Dean.” But he shook his head, because how could it be all right? How could any of this be okay? His dad died, his brother was waiting on him to do something, anything that gave him a sign that Dean was grieving, and what John had told him was nothing short of unreal. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”_

_“Don’t,” Dean choked out, “don’t be sorry, he was a prick.”_

_“Hey,” she slipped both hands just under his jaw, slipping back from him to look him dead in the eyes, “no matter what your dad did, you don’t speak ill of the dead, that’s how your ass gets haunted.”_

_He huffed at her words, the vague attempt at humor, but it died as quickly as it happened. He kinda wanted his dad to come back so he could tell him to fuck off and die, but that’s not what she needed to hear. “He told me about Sam,” Dean swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check, even when he wanted to break_ everything _! “I’d like to bring him back to life, just to shoot him in the head myself.”_

_“And you’re entitled to that,” she tilted her head just a little to the side, bright eyes scanning over his face, “but that’s not going to help.”_

_“I don’t want it to help, Kens,” he huffed, “I want to kick his ass.”_

_“What about Sam?” The mention of his brother sobered him up just a bit. “He asked you something that no man has the right to, not about his own child, so what are you going to do for Sam?”_

_Dean clenched his fists, moving back to lean on the door, and he took a breath in. “I don’t know.” Kenzie smiled at him, brushed her thumb along his cheeks, wiping the tears away as Dean’s lips trembled. “I don’t know, Kenzie. I don’t know what to think, what to feel… he was my dad, and he wants me to kill my brother.”_

_“It won’t come to that,” she smirked, pushing up to kiss his forehead, “you know why?”_

_“God…” his voice broke before he could go on. He took a breath, his gaze flitting away from hers before she turned his head, catching his attention._

_“Not in the least,” she ran a hand through his hair, giving a small tug at the length and hummed, “this has nothing to do with God, or the devil, angels or demons, Dean. It will never come to that point because of who you are.”_

_“Fucked,” he growled, “I’m totally fucked, that’s who I am.”_

_“Ah, no, not at all,” she leaned down, kissed him lightly, a feeling he gave into as her warm lips brushed his. “No, it’s because you two, you’re the guys who save the world.”_

_“I can’t,” he huffed, trying to steady his breath through his grief, his hands coming up to her shoulders, thumbs tracing over her collar bones, “I can’t believe that.”_

_“Why?” Kenzie ran her fingers down his hairline, over the shell of his ear until she was resting against his jaw again. “Dean, I love you, I always have, and do you know why?”_

_“Because you’re a masochist?” Dean snorted sarcastically, which only got a laugh from Kenzie._

_“That might be,” she nodded but scooted closer to him, “but it’s because it’s you, because of who you are, because of what you do.” Kenzie gently placed her forehead against his, and Dean couldn’t resist closing his eyes at the feel of her skin when he ran his hands up to brace against her neck, anything to pull her closer. “You’re a hero, Dean, and even heroes need to grieve. If you can’t let yourself do it in front of Sam, that’s okay, so long as you do it.”_

_His breath trembled as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against hers, “I need you.”_

_“I’m right here, Dean,” her words were warm against his lips, “right here.”_

Sam cleared his throat, shaking Dean from the memory as he turned his head sharply to look over the confused expression on his brother’s face. “Must have been a hell of a memory.”

“What?” Dean had no idea what he was talking about. Of course, it was a memory, what else would it have been, but why was Sam looking at him like that?

“Dude, you were making some crazy noises.”

Dean’s expression flattened, not giving Sam the satisfaction of a response except to narrow his eyes before he focused on the road again. “Yeah, well…”

“Look,” Sam sighed, “you told me that you explained who this woman was before, but I gotta tell ya, I don’t remember a damn thing from that week. I know we took care of the coven, I know we got on the road, but seriously, Dean, it’s all blank.”

“Like a fuzzy drug hangover?” Because Dean was pretty positive Sam had those before.

“No, like a blank page,” he admitted, “like there’s nothing between the time we left Dudley to the time we got home. Nothing.”

Dean shook his head. “I told you about Kenzie, introduced you to her, let you in on a secret I’d been holding in for sixteen years, and it got us wrapped up in a demon who took it all away, that’s what happened, Sam.”

“That long?”

“You,” he sighed, “you were off becoming some big shot lawyer.” Dean rolled his eyes, annoyed that he had to go through this all again when Sam could just as easily wait until they were pulling up at her door, but he could see the need for this written on his brother’s face. “Fine. I met her in St. Louis, we hit it off, and the rest is history.”

“You never thought to bring her in, keep her safe?”

Dean felt the anger heat up in him instantly, “I was keeping her safe, Sam, safe from all of this fuckery,” his words were harsh, “you don’t understand.”

“Then help me,” Sam sighed, “obviously the last time you told me about her, it went okay, right? So, tell me again, help me understand.”

“I,” Dean took a moment to get himself under control before he focused on the road, “she’s everything, Sammy,” he whispered, just a breath before he drew in a deeper one, “everything we’ve ever wanted. Normal, happy, house, three kids. Normal. And she’s been mine for so long.”

“I know,” Sam let those two words hang in the air for a moment before he shifted in his seat turning towards Dean just a little, “but she’s in danger, and whether or not I remember you telling me about it the first time, she’s _ours_ now, to protect.”

So, Dean explained… everything, from the beginning, right to the very moment that he forgot, and by the time he uttered his last word, he was pulled over in a small text stop, away from the sound of the diesel engines that rested on the side of the road. He tried to catch his breath, his heart, and every emotion in between because every second he spent thinking about her, the small hole in his heart grew.

Sam had always been his first priority, or so he thought, because the more he dove into his story about the girl he met in St. Louis, the more he realized that they were on equal ground. He split his whole heart, his very being, between the two of them and he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t deny Sam the chance for the family he created, and he couldn’t keep Kenzie at arm’s length. It was time to remedy that situation once and for all.

“I want out,” he stated abruptly, which got Sam to twist his entire body in Dean’s direction. “I want out, I want Kenzie and the kids, and I want you, one family, all together.”

“Dean, it’s not…”

“Safe? Yeah, I get that, more than you know, but I don’t want to do this anymore if I can’t have it all, and I know I can’t if I keep doing this.” Dean slouched behind the wheel, leaning his head back on the rest. “Man, look at us, we’re slipping out of our prime, how many of us make it to our age? Dad was damn lucky to live as long as he did. It’s time to let go, be like Bobby and take up the helm by guiding people. Semi-retirement, ya know?”

“In Massachusetts?” Sam’s lips quirked up in a sarcastic smile, one that only got Dean to scoff.

“If it needs to be there, sure,” he shrugged, “why not?”

“You think the bunker is a place for kids?” Dean watched the expression on Sam’s face, saw the moment that he started thinking about having more teenagers roaming the halls the way that Jack did, nose-deep in books, playing with the electronics, searching for the mysteries that the place held.

“Jack did just fine there.” Dean hoped, but didn’t say it, tried to keep his features neutral, let Sam process it. “And you haven’t met them yet, they’re amazing.”

“You think all kids are amazing,” Sam mumbled, but he heard it loud and clear and, yeah, he could see where Sam could get that impression, but Dean truly did believe it this time. After a moment of just listening to the rumble of the engine, he put the car in reverse, backed it out of the parking spot and hopped back on I-86, with five hours left to go. “You really want to do this?”

Dean glanced over at his brother as he adjusted his speed, making sure to stay as far away from the backend of the flatbed in front of him that hauled two cars on the bed, towing one behind him. He’d seen scary movies and knew without a doubt that something could come loose.

“Hell yeah,” he smirked. “Getting out of the business, Sammy, at our age, it’s perfect retirement.”

“What would you do if you had all that time?” Sam cocked a brow, curious as ever.

It took him a moment, like he had faded off into a memory, or a thought, but he slowly whispered out his desires, “I always wanted my own garage, you know, classic cars,” but it looked like Dean was focused on something else and Sam gave him a quick smirk. Dean tightened his hand on the wheel, inhaled deeply, and glanced again. “I wanna see my kid graduate.”

“Thought you said you went to James’s graduation, why would you not go to Daniel’s or Issy’s?” Sam was confused, and his eyes showed it more than his expression, which got a huff from Dean.

“Do you remember yours?” Sam gave a small shake. “Dad was out on a case, you were livid, searched the crowd forever, hoping for that one glimpse of him, that silhouette in the background by the tree, that clap that only you could pick out of a crowd, his voice yelling out your name. But it didn’t come, and I watched your face fall like someone had dropped a house on your sister.” Sam took a deep breath in, hoping to cleanse the anger that he felt bubbling up. “So, I yelled, screamed your name, clapped so hard I thought my hands were going to break, stood right up, and met you at the edge of that stage, and I hugged you, so tight.”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled, his breath hitching as he blinked back the emotions, “I remember. So much for your ‘no chick-flicks’ right?”

“It only happens once in a lifetime, Sam, and I want that. I want to make sure that they remember it, that they know I was there for them, for this big moment.” Dean cleared his throat, his attention turning to the cars that passed by on the opposite side of the road, scoping out possible unmarked cruisers. “I was so proud of you.”

Sam ducked his head, looking down at his hands, before he focused on the passing trees, “you were always there for me, Dean, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Not always,” and that got Sam to look up. “While you were gone to Stanford, I should have been there, I should have…” Dean’s gaze traveled to him, “I should have been somewhere close, watching over you.”

“It wasn’t one sided, Dean, I didn’t pick up the phone either.”

Dean shrugged one shoulder, “doesn’t matter, I probably wouldn’t have let you in the car with the preppy clothes you were wearing anyway, would have just jinxed it, made me stay in Preppyville forever.”

“How do you know what I was wearing?” Sam smirked, which only got Dean do repeat the gesture. “Dean?”

“Might have checked on you once or twice,” and that made Sam adjust his position in order to stare at Dean’s profile. Glancing at him quickly, the older one only shrugged. “What?”

“What was it? Once or twice?” Sam knew Dean had been in the area, at least he had dreamed it, thought he had heard the phantom rumble of the car’s engine but never actually saw it. Dean slowly drew in his lip, bit down on his softly before letting it go, sighing.

“Every six months or so,” he mumbled, “like I said, once or twice.”

“Every…?” Sam stopped himself from repeating those words and closed his eyes. “You were so close, but you never stepped up, never told me?”

“I didn’t want to bring the bad stuff,” his confession didn’t piss off Sam as much as he thought it would, maybe because of the time, how many years it had been, but Sam just sat back and turned his thoughts inward. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get upset, and I didn’t stop because,” he took a breath and shook his head, “man, you were happy. I’d never seen that smile on your face, not since that fourth of July, not for a long time, and I didn’t want to be the one to bring it down, to make it fade.”

“You think I didn’t need my brother?” Sam sighed, “didn’t need you to make me happy too?” He turned his head, watched the flush run up Dean’s neck. “Why do you think I didn’t keep pictures of you around the house?”

“Don’know, just thought you were ashamed of me, never really put much stock in it.” Dean’s fingers tightened on the wheel, telling Sam that was a lie. He had noticed, just from the quick sweep of the place, and it had stung. “I didn’t do the right thing, I should have stopped you, should have gone with you, but I didn’t so I thought you were pissed. The way Jess said my name, it was like I was some big secret.”

“You were,” Sam admitted, “you were because I didn’t want to share you with anyone else.”

“You make it sound a little bit weird when you say it like that,” Dean’s nose crinkled, “kinda creepy.”

“No, not like that,” Sam grunted, but there was a smile on his lips as he twisted his fingers together. “You were always the one that I could lean back on, know that if I turned, you were there, and I guess whether I saw you or not, you just proved that I was right. _You_ were my secret to protect. I thought if I had your picture out, that people would see it and that you’d be in danger because of me, so I kept the only one I had in my wallet.” He shuffled in the seat, reaching for the thing in his back pocket and Dean watched with curious eyes as Sam pulled a folded picture from the edge of the bi-fold. He couldn’t believe it.

There they were, not more than seventeen and twenty-one at most, when Sam was still a bit shorter and Dean could swing his arm around his shoulder, grinning like two carefree sons of a bitch, and Dean actually remembered John taking that picture. Dean tried to wipe the smile off his face as he cleared his throat, concentrated on the road, and handed the picture back.

“You keep a picture of me in your wallet, still creepy, man,” he was trying to brush off the emotions that chased him, but Sam saw right through the teasing attitude, he just decided not to call his brother on it.

“I just wanted you to see that keeping something a secret from someone you love, especially something this big, isn’t as weird as you think.” Sam sighed, suddenly frustrated and afraid that Dean wouldn’t get it, but when he gave just a curt nod, Sam beamed, and basked in the comfortable silence for another ten miles. “So, a garage, huh? You with a regular job.”

“I did construction for that year I was with Lisa,” Dean’s smile was there one instant and gone the next as he swallowed, he didn’t want to repeat Sam grilling him on his time split between Kenzie and Lisa, it was more than he could take with the memories still bombarding him. He cleared his throat, shifted in the seat to stretch out his back and decided that maybe a top-off and a new coffee would be good to get the kinks out, but he did have one question. “You worked when you were in college?”

Sam seemed horrified that Dean knew that, and Dean found the expression fucking hysterical, so much so that it was all he could do to not crack up so hard that he crashed the car, but Sam’s eyes were bigger than an Anime characters, and his mouth gaped open at the question.

“Com’on, Sammy, there’s not much that I don’t know, so… indulge me.”

Sam’s mouth snapped shut so hard that his teeth clicked together and he looked pretty damn uncomfortable until he could find the right way to say it. “I was a barista.”

And Dean pulled the car over because that was it.

Though the tears and the pain in his stomach from cracking up, Dean managed to get a good look at his mortified brother. “Oh, my God, that explains so much.” Sam’s frown turned into a scowl as Dean held onto the steering wheel as if his life depended on it. “Did they make you wear that princess hair in a man-bun. Oh, God, please tell me there’s pictures.”

“You…” Sam huffed, “you’re an asshole.” But he couldn’t help the smile that slowly turned his lips, and before he knew it, he was grinning widely at the man in the driver’s seat. “Get it all out, man, we’ve got another four hours to go.”

Dean sighed, pulled himself together, and put the car in drive. Pulling out when it was clear enough, he spared a glance towards Sam once more before the grin on his face threatened to split his face wide open again.

“A barista? Seriously.” Dean shook his head, “that explains all the frou-frou drinks.” Sam sighed. “Barista Ken with a man-bun.”

“Screw you, Dean.” He shook his head, but the grin didn’t fade for another two hours.


	12. Keep on loving you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are so many things going on in Dean's head, it's hard to keep them straight, let alone tell Sam all about the woman that he left behind... again.
> 
> What's worse is he can't stop thinking about what's going to happen when he steps foot in town and finally finds her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at that, one more chapter.  
> Things are hectic. I'm putting out a new book, so edits and such have taken up a lot of time, but this chapter kept going, being written a little at a time. So, enjoy, it shouldn't be the last, but again, no promises. 
> 
> As always, all errors are mine.

**Keep on loving you**

The small town they pulled into was bustling with cars, there were two traffic lights at least on this stretch of road, neither in the best location to be effective and Sam could almost feel the irritation flowing from his brother as he rolled his eyes, tapped the wheel impatiently and waited at a light with absolutely no one coming in the other direction.

“This is stupid,” the older one grouched under his breath and while Sam agreed, it gave him a moment to stare at the small diner that sat to his right. The Crystal Springs Dairy Bar sounded so familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it. It sat there on the edge of his memories, of his thoughts until Dean pulled away and rolled through town at twenty-five miles an hour. A car paced behind him, close enough that its headlights were lost in the mirror and Sam was waiting for Dean to break-check him just for getting that close. “I hate this place.”

“It doesn’t look so bad,” Sam gave him a smirk, and his eyes widened as he saw the McDonald’s to the left, his stomach rumbling with the thought of food. “What’s the plan?”

Dean growled as they stopped at the second light in town, and the car behind them got even closer. Sam watched him reach for the shift, ready to put it in park and get out, but he wasn’t fast enough, the light turned green. Sam felt the acceleration, eyes still locked on his brother as they strolled passed a cemetery and several vacant buildings, another gas station on the right.

Three in town alone, he wasn’t sure why he thought that was so weird, but the proximity of the same number of liquor stores also struck him as odd. Main street seemed a little weird, the right side was mainly empty buildings while the left was nearly filled and Sam could tell that it was some sort of effort to get business back into the area, because they weren’t commercial chains, just small Mom and Pop places.

Dean turned at the next left, making his way up North Street. Another two sets of lights, this time actually well-placed, made the transition to the strange street easier. It had a small, one-story, brick building that served as the police station across from a large church, but Dean ignored it all together as the street inclined and Dean hooked a right.

Park Street wasn’t well kept, which surprised Sam because this was definitely something of a main roadway. There weren’t potholes per se, but more like dips in the asphalt. You weren’t going to lose your tires, or bottom out, but it definitely wasn’t the best thing for the shocks on any car, let alone a classic.

Sam eyed the area with curiosity, mostly because it looked residential with the occasional business, and one very large funeral home, mixed in. Dean took another right, this time down what he thought might be a one-way with how narrow it was, but cars were parked facing both directions. He would never understand this, not in the least. Who designed this place?

“How do you even know where you’re going?” Sam questioned as Dean slowly turned left into a parking lot across the street from the large, white bank building.

“Muscle memory, maybe?” Dean shrugged, tossing the car into park and killing the engine. He looked passed Sam, and sighed. “This is where she works.”

“She’s a bank teller?” Sam smirked.

“Nah, she travels,” Dean shrugged, like he forgot to mention that part. “Her and Liz have an office up there, keeps home and the ‘show’ separate.”

“Show?” Sam was a bit confused, but he focused on the building instead of Dean’s worry-filled eyes. “She travels and does a show, and she hooked up with you? Low standards, man.”

“She investigates urban legends.” Dean all but ignored the jab and kept his eyes on the door, one that several people had come in and out of. It was lunchtime, he wasn’t sure she would be in there, but he had to try. He paused when he reached out blindly for the door handle, eyes shifting to Sam’s, who stared at him now with some mixed emotion, like horror and intrigue. “Don’t worry, she’s safe while she does it.”

“Safe?” Sam barked, and it wasn’t a bad tone of voice, just a protective one. He could almost see Sam being the savior again, telling Dean that this was a bad idea. “She’s still playing with the supernatural.”

“No,” Dean grinned, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder, “you usually make sure she’s far, far from it.”

His hazel eyes took on that look of full confusion before he asked, “how?”

“All those crazy things I ask you about? The lore surrounding some place, and what’s the level of actual evidence, that’s for them.”

“Wait a minute,” and Dean saw it coming a mile away, “you had me working for her and I didn’t even know who the hell she was? All those times I would dig deep for hours just for you to say never mind, that was for her?”

“Yep,” he was waiting for Sam to throw a punch, but when the younger one just slumped back in the seat, he was the one that suddenly became confused. “Huh.”

“That went better than I thought,” Dean smirked and opened the door, pressing his toes against it to hold it open. “I’m just going to go inside and see if she’s there. I don’t want to show up at her house, screw things up.”

“You mean, if she doesn’t remember you?”

Dean was nearly out of the car when Sam spoke those words, hitting closer to the truth than he wanted, actually, he was spot on. Dean swallowed passed the lump in his throat, took a breath to steady his heart and glanced at his brother.

“Yeah, exactly that.”

Sam reached out and gripped his bicep, just a gentle squeeze to let him know he was there. Dean cleared his throat, slipped away from the touch and closed the door behind him. He stood at the front of the car, looked up at the building in front of him and clenched his fists, it was now or never.

Every step into the building was almost painful. The moments in the stairwell to the second floor felt like he was climbing the Statue of Liberty, and once inside the hallway it felt like it stretched on forever, not making any progress as he moved towards it, until he was suddenly standing in front of the small silver sign that read _Urban Unknown_.

And there was her name, written out in blocky letters, like she was some sort of hot shot lawyer. MacKenzie Stevens. Liz’s name was there, but the phone number was for her private office in Worcester. Dean reached out, clenched his jaw as his fingers traced her name and he took a few shallow breaths to catch his heart. It didn’t work. He reached for the handle, turned the golden knob and slowly stepped in.

It was a small two room office with a small break room off to the side, community bathroom off the hallway he had just come through, and he remembered being there, just not all the details. Filing cabinets filled one side of the room, a testament to how many things they had investigated, how much detail had gone into each because he knew that Kenzie was a stickler for obscenely over the top records, especially on the backstory. Liz had called her on it so many times while Dean was listening into their phone conversations that he knew it was true.

There was a small reception desk that curved out from the right side of the room, giving the woman… Meghan if he remembered correctly, the privacy of her own cabinets, plus access to the rest, while keeping any people just on the outside of their little club.

Meghan looked up from whatever paperwork she was shuffling around and locked eyes with Dean.

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” She was pleasant, just as he remembered her, but there was no recognition in her eyes, none that Dean could see anyway.

He took a moment to think about what to say next, was just about to toss out some line about seeing the boss, when the door behind Meghan opened and Kenzie stepped out, glasses down on her nose, not looking up as her finger roamed over the yellowed pages of an old lore book, one that he knew belonged to Sam because he recognized the small part of the spine he could see through her fingers.

“Meghan can you find me…” she glanced up, ready to continue speaking, but her words instantly died away as her eyes locked with Dean’s. Her jaw dropped open, lips only parting because she gasped in shock, but her stare wouldn’t let him go. It was there, the knowledge that she knew him, just like he did her, but it wasn’t complete, it wasn’t a ‘oh, hi’ type of thing, just a small ‘don’t I know you from somewhere’ thing. He heard her breath hitch, watched the way she swallowed, before that one word escaped her lips. “Hello.”

Dean stared for only a second more before he turned on his heels, quickly making his way out of the building without ever realizing that he had moved, not until he was standing in the middle of the street, trying to catch his breath as his lungs threatened to collapse, or explode. He heard the sound of the door slamming against the brick behind him, opening with a force, and his whole body stiffened.

“Wait!” Her voice screamed above the sound of traffic, of his own beating heart, and his body swayed as he felt the lightheadedness take over. “Dean?” she was unsure, shaky… scared, and he closed his eyes, taking in the way she said it, the same way she breathed it out in his dreams, erotic and familiar. He took a moment, caught his bearings, steadied himself, and slowly turned to face her. She stopped, not more than five feet from him, just out of arm’s reach, her hand up like she wasn’t sure about the contact, but her eyes held something new in them. Longing, maybe, recognition? “Your name’s Dean, right?” 

He curled his fist and brought it up to his chest, pressing against his sternum. This was the most painful thing he had ever felt, the crushing weight of her standing there in front of him, but he had to hold back, couldn’t go to her… not yet.

“Winchester,” he whispered, cleared his throat. “It’s… it’s Dean Winchester.”

He watched the color come back to her face, as her eyes watered. Her fingers came up, tenting over her nose as her body seemed to wobble for just a second before she righted it, and a shaky word slipped from her lips. “Jesus.”

“Hey,” his hand reached out, wanting to pull her close, help her get steady on her swaying feet, “hey, Kens, it’s okay, just keep breathing.”

Her face paled again, hands dropped away from her face, and a small tear escaped as she clenched her teeth and moved just a bit closer. “What did you say?”

“It’s okay,” Dean nodded. God, how the hell was he supposed to do this? He was so out of his element.

“No, what…” her arms moved, not sure if she wanted to cross them and hug herself or just let them hang. Finally, she ran a hand over her face and sighed, “what did you call me?”

The thought of her name had never occurred to him to be a key thing, that it might trigger something, so he was careful when he replied. “Kens,” he whispered and listened as she drew in a ragged breath.

“Oh, my God,” for a moment, he thought she was going to pass out, as she leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees, catching her breath, whispering “you’re real.” 

Dean listened to her groan, and his body reacted. It wasn’t one of pleasure, but of some phantom pain, or maybe of her heart breaking, but he couldn’t stand there and do nothing anymore. His hands rested on her shoulders, fingers spread across her upper arm and over her collar bone. She was small, bone structure wise, and his gigantic hands felt like they took up too much space on her body, but she didn’t move away, instead, she pushed into the feeling of him.

The space between them when Dean helped her stand was practically nil. The only thing they had to do was breath in at the same time and they’d be touching, but he was trying not to think of that. His eyes focused on her bright ones, shinning in the sunlight with the tears that rolled down her cheeks and he brought his thumb up to wipe them away.

Kenzie reached out, her hand pausing just a tick from his chest and Dean found himself freezing in his spot, waiting on that moment, but he saw the confusion in her eyes when they finally settled against the beat of Dean’s heart.

“How?” Her question wasn’t directed at him, it was just a thought that slipped out as she stared right at that point of contact. Dean didn’t move, not for anything, just enjoyed the feeling of her being so close and he remembered back to that dream, the way she moved around him, how it felt to be inside her, and he shook. This caught her attention, her gaze settling on his, still standing in the middle of the road. “How are you here?”

Dean’s whole body relaxed, his lips formed a grin wide enough to create the wrinkles around his eyes, but he held back the sound of the hysterical laughter that threatened to roll out. “Oh, sweetheart, I wish I could explain everything, but…”

“We know each other,” she narrowed her eyes, took in the familiar way they were standing, how solid and right his hands felt on her and Dean gave an uncertain nod. He was about to say something that might drive her away, but he had to know that she _remembered_ something.

“For sixteen years,” instead of an expected gesture, like a gasp and a hand going to her mouth in some sort of dramatic take on ‘Oh, my God,’ she laughed and rolled her eyes. Dean was totally thrown off. “What?”

“That explains the dreams,” and it came out so naturally that he, himself, felt the heat rising along his neck with the knowledge of exactly what she was dreaming about. “They can only be memories if they’re that explicit.”

“Jesus,” Dean blew out, and his body tingled. She was talking about sex, in the middle of a street, her hands on him and so close. Kenzie giggled, that was the only way to explain the noise that escaped her, and Dean saw the moment of absolutely clarity when she knew who she was standing with. “God, it’s been too long.”

“You say that every...” Kenzie froze as the statement threatened to leave her mouth, her eyes wide with acknowledgement and complete clarity.

Dean shifted just a bit, closing the distance as those fingers that kept the beat with his heart tightened on the black fabric and suddenly it was _screw this_ and Dean visibly shook when she pushed up on her tiptoes just as he leaned in, her lips pressed against his.

It wasn’t a heated kiss, a frenzied need to connect, to dominate, something they played with often enough, but it was soft, life-affirming, like all the pieces fit into place. Every memory, every emotion they ever felt in and out of each other’s presence flowed between them like a river, rushing, then trickling, as their lips met and released, tasting one another as if it were the first time.

Dean shifted back, just enough to end the kiss, to breath, and even then, he was still taking her in. He watched her eyes flutter open, moist again with tears but this time of joy and not confusion, caught in a stare that said everything and nothing all at once.

It was the loud, solid sound of a car horn that made both of them jump, and Dean tore his eyes away just long enough to stare at the ratty looking Buick that sat impatiently waiting for them to move. Dean took his hand away only long enough to wave before it was once again on her and they were moving to the safety of the sidewalk.

That was the moment she spotted the car and her breath hitched.

Dean grinned, knowing that Baby always got that kind of reaction. He knew she was a gorgeous piece of machinery, but the way Kenzie’s eyes lit up was almost too much. Every thought of what they had done, where they had gone, flashed through them in an instant and Dean couldn’t help the smirk. Yeah, he remember those times too with such a range of emotion that he wasn’t even offended when she slipped away to make sure it was real.

Sam got out of the car, standing to his full height as she approached, and the way he tilted his head just a bit, eyes on Dean, quietly asked the question of if it was safe, if he could even talk to her. He knew how protective his brother could get, it was only right to seek that kind of permission. Dean’s only motion was the quick nod of his head.

Kenzie’s eyes fell on the man that stood between the door and the car, still not moving from the safety of the interior completely, like the machine was an escape, security, a way out of things went south, and she believed it because she knew how those boys lived their lives, how they grew up.

She stopped not far from him, a light smile creeping up on her lips, and she cleared her throat before stuffing her hands into her pockets, a way to stem the need to reach out and hug him. She knew who he was now, but she wasn’t sure he had a clue.

Sam ducked his head, focused on a spot on the ground but his gaze flickered up at her once or twice before he shifted his weight, not nervous, but evaluating the situation. Kenzie licked out at her lips, mouth suddenly as dry as a cotton ball, fighting to find the right words to say, but it came down to being simple, getting it out of the way and breaking the weird tension.

With a grin on her face, Dean at her back, Kenzie narrowed her vision to just the man by the car, the little brother that Dean had told her so much about, that she remembered inviting into her home, talking to as if she had known him her whole life because he was part of Dean, a very large part.

“Hey, Sam.”

And that was the instant his eyes widened in recognition. 

Sam stumbled back, bracing himself, one hand on the roof, the other on the window glass, fingers curled on the cool smoothness of it. Dean was by his side in a flash, hands on his face, looking deep into his eyes.

“Sammy, talk to me,” he was begging, pleading to understand the reaction, but Sam was locked on the woman, the one who stood before him, just as worried as his brother and he found the strength to wrap his fingers around Dean’s wrist, holding the hand that cupped his cheek, making sure the touch stayed solid before he made eye contact with the man.

Dean was so close, so close… enough to see the way the gold in his eyes reflected in the green, to see the concern for what it was… fear… but he gave a little nod, not moving away, not drawing closer and all of the muscles in his brother relaxed. It was weird to see Dean come down from his guard, to watch those long lashes close for just a moment before Dean was studying him again.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam sighed, just loud enough for his brother to hear and his fingers uncurled from his wrists, letting the older one go, not something he was ready for if he were honest. “It’s okay.”

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” Dean huffed, patting him on the cheek, “what happened?”

That was simple enough. The moment she said his name was the same instant that everything that had been missing came forward. Those stolen days rolled through his mind like a tornado on the open plains, destroying whatever wall had been built up around them. Sam raised a brow, like he was searching for the words to explain, but it was simple really and he went with that. “I remembered.”

Dean stepped back, glanced between the two of them, and watched as Sam let his eyes set on her.

“Hey, Kenzie.”

It was weird to see the two of them hugging, but Dean still watched with a strange fascination of the way his brother’s arms wrapped around her, the way she fit in against his stomach because, let’s face it, Sam was a freaking giant compared to Kenzie and with almost four inches on Dean, there was no way that her head was going to rest anywhere above the bottom of his sternum and why Dean found that funny and weirdly sexual was something he didn’t want to dig into… like… ever.

“Okay,” he barked out gruffly, uncrossing his arms, something he had done unconsciously, “break it up.”

Sam smiled, like full on grinned when Kenzie stepped back and winked up at him before she turned to Dean. They were finally together again.


End file.
